


Making it Work

by bisexualknuckles



Series: Making it Work [Winterhawk] [1]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Tales of Suspense, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Clint Needs a Hug, Deaf Clint Barton, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Matt Fraction's Hawkeye, hawkeye is terrible with his feelings, kind of??, slow-burn, winter soldier - Freeform, winterhawk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-06-01 11:32:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 22,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15142172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bisexualknuckles/pseuds/bisexualknuckles
Summary: Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, and Scott Lang work together on undercover missions, normally to take down Hydra agents.After nearly being killed by Russia's greatest assassin's, James Buchanan Barnes, Clint soon realizes that he hates this guy's guts. Too bad Natasha has talked Bucky into joining them on some of their missions, much to the archer's dismay.Bucky also takes it upon himself to move into Clint's apartment building. Seems he can't escape him.





	1. First Meeting;

**Author's Note:**

> I combined things from the Matt Fraction Hawkeye comics, the Tales of Suspense comics, and also the MCU. I made up a lot of stuff, considering it's an AU of some sort. I'm not sure how long I'll go with this, since I wrote most of it out of order.

The first time Clint Barton met Bucky Barnes, he had a gun pressed to his temple.

Clint had been sent on a mission by S.H.I.E.L.D to scope out a potential threat by HYDRA, nothing out of the ordinary. HYDRA had been under investigation for years, and cult members alike were always popping up all over the map.

Clint sat over the ledge connected to the side of the room. His hearing aid was turned all the way up, which left a deafening ( _ha_ ) ringing in his ears, but it was necessary to survive.

“You in position, Barton?” A voice asked over the scratchy microphone in his other ear. He winced at the tone, but nodded to himself. 

“Aren’t I always?”

He could hear a scoff over the phone, which he recognized as Natasha. He smiled to himself, wishing he could see the scowl on her face.

“Keep your position until told to fire,” The voice commanded, an edge to their voice. “Got it?”

Clint hummed in agreement, suddenly wishing he was at home with Lucky, lounging on the couch, a slice of pizza in one hand.

“Why do I keep taking these crummy jobs?” He mumbled to himself, happy to hear the line on the other end of the phone was silent. He situated himself to where his body was hugging the railing, laying low to stay out of sight. 

There was a sudden creak, and the thumping of foot steps along the floor below him. He perked up, silently sitting up to watch.

He had never seen this man before, but the way his glasses gleamed in the UV lights gave off nothing but a sinister vibe. His lab coat was long, and Clint was already thinking of human experimentation, and he felt sick.

He watched him for a while, the silence in the room making it impossible for Scott, Natasha, or any other agent at S.H.I.E.L.D to contact him without being heard.

The only thing they could tell him to do was shoot, but now was too soon. Clint watched as the man pressed a button under the metal counter. The table hissed to life, buzzing and humming as a rack of what looked like blue liquid in tiny tubes were brought to the surface.

The assassin was beginning to wonder where the people were hiding, where were they being tortured? Clint wanted to know for the sake of their lives, but he also wished he were anywhere else.

There was a the smallest ping, right next to Clint’s ear. He turned, suddenly feeling himself being engulfed by two legs being wrapped around him. Clint knew better than to gasp, so he allowed his body to jerk, but kept eye contact with the figure beside him.

A man was seated next to him, his blue eyes looking sharp. It looked as if a child had used a black crayon around his eyes, smearing it every which way until it nearly reached his cheeks bones. He had a mask covering his mouth, the shine from the leather almost as bright as the man’s glasses down below. 

Clint noticed his long, dark hair, that reached the side of his face. His back was arched slightly, holding a rifle that was pointed right at Hawkeye’s head. The barrel of the gun felt cold to his skin, but the sad part was, this wasn’t the first time a gun had found it’s way into his personal space.

Though the overall reaction Clint felt was shocked, he couldn’t help but be slightly annoyed. He could feel the heavy weight of the other man’s legs around his torso. Keeping him there, making sure he wouldn’t jerk away as this other man shot him.

He wanted to look away, but his eyes were locked with the other man’s intensely. Clint could feel his heart hammering against his chest, his stomach twisting with anxiety and adrenaline.

There was a noise from down below, which caused both men to glance down from the rafters.

The man was grabbing the bottles, scooping them into a duffel back hurriedly, which made Clint realize that they knew they were here.

“Shoot.” The voice commanded in his ear, but the leather clasped man wrapped around him still kept his gun at the ready. 

“I can’t.” Clint’s voice was hoarse, as if he hadn’t spoken in years. He could feel the gun pressed harder against his temple, causing a shaky breath to leave him. 

“What the hell do you mean, Barton? Shoot him damn-” 

“ _I_.  _Can’t_.” 

The HYDRA agent got away, alarms began to blare as a red light was cast around the room. The man beside him huffed in annoyance, putting the gun away as quickly as he had pulled it.

He stood up, his boots shaking the metal beneath them. Clint hadn’t realized just how muscular his body was built, his shadow casting over him omniously.

Clint Barton did something he would do in any deathly situation: he cracked a joke.

“You just gonna wrap your legs around me like a horny school girl without letting me even give you a kiss?” 

He saw the soldier’s eyes soften a fraction of a degree, which sent a small surge of hope through Clint’s body. Without a word, he turned around, running down the small ledge of the balcony.

Clint finally allowed himself to breathe, laying against the hard ground, his chest heaving.


	2. Winter Who?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint really didn't want to hear so much about the Winter Soldier or the fact that he was Natasha's ex: he just wanted to finish his sandwich and go home to his bed and dog.

“The windy what?” Clint asked, shoving a sandwich into his mouth. He could feel mayo dripping down his chin, so he took to his shirt sleeve to wipe it away. 

Natasha was sitting across from him, her eyes narrowed in disgust and annoyance. Those were common emotions Natasha dared to show around Clint, since he was normally the one invoking them in her. Scott sat beside him, immersed in his food as well. 

New York busseled around them, sitting in the outside dining area near a food cart. Lunch after a mission was mandatory (sometimes the hospital was mandatory, but sometimes a really good sandwich couldn’t wait.) Even though Clint blew this entire mission, he only had a few regrets as he shoveled more food into his mouth. 

“The  _Winter_  Soldier.” Nat stated, keeping her torso twisted and her legs crossed, as if she were always searching-always observing. “I dated him once.” 

Clint felt like he was choking on his piece of lettuce, coughing a bit as he adjusted himself. “You dated the guy that almost shot me square in the head?” 

Natasha gave him a look, and Clint shrugged after a minute. “Actually, yeah, that sounds exactly like you.” Nat flashed him a little smile, but it disappeared almost as quickly as it came. 

“So, why was he there?” Scott interjected, crumpling up his wrapper and tossing it into the trash behind him. He missed. “Dammit.”

“I would assume to stop the HYDRA agent,” Natasha tapped her long nails against the chain-link table. “He probably thought you were working with them but realized that you might be on his side, hence why he didn’t  _actually_  shoot you.”

“How kind of him.” Clint muttered, rubbing his messy hands on his pants. “Either way, he fucked up my entire mission. Now we have more work to do this week.” 

“All you managed to do was flirt with Russia’s most deadliest assassin,” Scott snorted, glancing at Natasha. He noticed her raised eyebrows, so he mumbled, “Okay,  _second_  deadliest assassin.” 

Clint glared at his friend, crossing his arms across his chest. “I was scared, okay? I crack jokes when I get freaked out.” 

“Your life is a joke.”

“Touche, Scotty boy.” 

“We were gonna have more work reguardless of the fact that you were making goo-goo eyes at Bucky.” Natasha retorted, standing up and throwing her salad bowl into the garbage. “Come on, guys. I think we’re done for the day.”

“I think that was fear in my eyes, for the record.” 

Natasha shrugged her shoulders, a playful twinkle in her hooded eyes. “Get some rest, boys. I’m sure Nick will wake us up bright and early within the next few days for a new task.”

“You mean to chew Barton’s ass about loosing the HYDRA agent.” Scott snickered, lightly punching Clint in the arm. Clint rubbed the spot, rolling his eyes. 

“I’m so glad this day is over.” Clint shrugged his jacket onto his shoulders to wrap himself up better. He walked away from his commrades, giving them both a little parting wave before walking back to his apartment building. 

Each time he took a step, Clint could feel pain surge through his spine. He was certain there was going to be some nasty bruises near his love handles where Bucky’s boots had dug into his back. 

Clint’s mind kept catching on that name, wondering where he had heard it before. Sure, Clint had heard whispers of the Winter Soldier throughout his missions and meetings with the other Avengers and super heroes, but he never cared. If something wasn’t staring Clint directly in the eyes with a vague threat escaping their lips, then he normally didn’t care. 

Clint remembered Captain America saying something about Bucky, but he also was heating up a slice of pizza in the microwave, and you know how priorities go. Clint couldn’t hear anyways. His vague memory was pulling up segments of ‘child soldier’ and ‘frozen’ and ‘assassin.’ Pretty sure Cap was also talking about a weird attraction thing he had for the guy. Who knows, like he said, Clint wasn’t listening. 

He just hoped the guy was gone now. Maybe he could actually get through a mission without being bombarded with snide comments from his teammates about how Clint did this, or Clint did that. Actually, no, that was completely farfetched; he would also be lying if he said that wasn’t partly the reason he was friends with these guys outside of their missions. 

The archer felt heavy hands on his shoulders as his weight was shifted directly to his left side. He nearly hit the pavement, but firm arms held him upright. Clint blinked, noticing he had been pulled into a dark alley, his body tensing up as he prepared for a hit. His hands clenched at his sides, both from the reflex of wishing his bow was in his hand, and also the preparation of throwing his entire weight into a punch. 

Nothing ever came. 

Clint’s vision was slightly blurred, and he could feel that his hearing aid had been readjusted to where it barely fit on the shell of his ear. He blinked the darkness away, noticing a figure standing before him. He hadn’t noticed that the hands were still on his shoulders: one being metal. 

“You-” Clint’s words were muffled by the other man’s hand. He recognized those cold blue eyes, the same ones that had stared him down when Clint had really thought it was the end. 

“Don’t talk too loud, I won’t hurt you.” His voice was deeper than expected; hoarse, almost. As if he hadn’t really talked in years, or often for that matter. He hesitantly removed his hand, tilting his head as if to wait for Clint to say something snarky, but he only received silence from the archer. 

Clint felt that same fear creep into his chest as he studied the soldier. There was a gun strapped to his back, and he was still wearing that same black attire from before. The mask was gone though, revealing a slightly pointed nose and plump lips. His hair was tied back in a weird ponytail, as if he had struggled with getting it up. Strands were still loose, falling in front of his eyes in a way that irritated Clint. 

Clint raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to speak. He hadn’t died yet, so what was there to loose? 

“What were you doing in Coffman’s HYDRA base earlier today?” He had an interogating tone, as if he were questioning a prisoner. This also annoyed Clint greatly. 

“Trying to arrest him. You only seemed interesting in blowing off my face, though.” Clint snapped, leaning his back against the brick wall, so he could take in the full view on the Winter Soldier. 

“Had to make sure you weren’t working with him.” Bucky stated, letting his shoulders drop slightly. “You work with Romanov?”

“I’m sure you’d recognize her anywhere.” 

Bucky arched an eyebrow, but seemed not to care too much to question it. “Coffman has something I want, and I’m not letting you and your little spy kids team get in the way of that right now. I came here to tell you to back down from the mission.”

“Not till the mission is completed.” Clint gritted his teeth, flexing his fingers. “You made me screw up my shot, and I normally don’t forgive people who mess with my shot. I don’t miss.”

“How can you miss if you never took the shot?” Bucky deadpanned, but Clint could tell this was a smug jab at him. 

Clint rolled his eyes, wishing he had his bow with him. “I think we’re done here.”

He started to walk off, but he felt that creepy metal hand on his shoulder again. Clint shoved his shoulder at him, glaring. 

“I’m being serious,” Bucky’s eyes were assertive. “Stay out of my way. I’ll make sure Coffman gets what he deserves.” 

“I have to do my job. See you around, grease ball.” Clint stepped back out into the dimming sunlight, making sure to pick up the pace before Bucky could come after him. 

Bucky didn’t follow him, though; and Clint really hoped he didn’t see him around. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just kind of a filler chapter before an intense mission. I have like the third or fourth chapter already written for this; like I said, it's out of order since I just got the idea to combine it all. Hope it was satisfying anyway!


	3. Clint's Being Stubborn, and Nobody is Surprised

Clint didn't remember falling into bed when he got home the night before. He blinked, raw sunlight pouring in through his bedroom window. Damn, he really needed to fix those blinds. 

He groaned, feeling his muscles ache and his head pound. You'd think from all of the times he had been beaten, bruised, and stabbed, his body would get used to it. His body never seemed to even catch up with him most days. Neither did sleep. 

He turned to his side, feeling a warm lump beside him. He ran his fingers through Lucky's coarse fur, enjoying the feeling of something familiar. Clint knew he should be reaching for his pager, checking to see if S.H.I.E.L.D had contacted him. Deep down, he really wanted to throw the pager out the damn window. 

He rolled onto his back, throwing an arm over his face to shield the sunlight from his eyes. Maybe he could finally catch up on his sleep. 

"Clint?" A familiar voice called out, her feet thumping on the wooden floors. "Clint, you home?"

Clint grabbed his pillow, screaming into it. No sleep for him, he thought. "Go away, brat." 

"I'm going to pretend like you didn't call me that." Kate Bishop's voice was one Clint was never going to forget. Hell, she wouldn't let him forget even if he wanted to. It was high-pitched, always airy and light. Unless she was pissed. Then it was a whole different tone Clint didn't want to talk about. 

He could hear Kate climbing the steps to his room. She flicked the string on his blinds, letting in the full affect of the sunlight. Clint pretended to hiss, covering his head with a pillow. 

"It burns!" 

"Rise and shine, bitch." 

Lucky wagged his tail, running to Kate like the traitor he was. Clint would still give him an extra treat at the end of the day, though. 

"How was your mission yesterday?" She asked, sitting on the edge of Clint's bed. "You didn't call."

"Sorry, I was exhausted. Met some dude named Bucky, he nearly shot me, I blew the mission, and then we ate sandwiches. Nothing new, really." Clint rubbed the back of his neck, shrugging nonchalantly. Kate rolled her eyes, but her eyes shone withconcern. 

"The Winter Soldier? That Bucky?"

"How come everyone seems so shocked by this except me?"

Kate gave Clint one of her famous exasperated looks. The archer bit back a smile, secretly enjoying he frustrated her. 

"Bucky Barnes is a deadly assassin. He's known for being a cold-blooded killer. Ever since he got out from mind-control a few years ago, he seems to just be taking out HYDRA agents here and there. I'm surprised he let you go so easily." 

"Well," Clint stood up, feeling his back pop. "He did corner me in an alley before I got home and told me to stay out of his way on this mission."

Kate's eyebrows raised in alarm, leaning closer to her friend. "Did he hurt you?"

"No, I basically told him I'll do what I want, then I came here and crashed. Don't remember that part too well, though." Clint started to make his way down the stairs, heading straight for the coffee pot. Kate was on his heels, almost crashing into him on the way down.

"Clint, you have to be careful with this stuff. He might be okay now, but maybe his threats are real. Why don't you just let Nat and them handle it?" Kate's bottom lip jutted out like it normally did when she was being bossy. Okay, maybe to Clint it was being bossy, but in reality, it was just her being concerned with his safety. A strand of her black hair was dangling in her face, and Clint reached out to push it behind her ear out of habit. 

Kate was so used to the gesture that she didn't question it. "Clint, are you listening to me?"

Clint scooped coffee grounds into his filter, hitting the button on the side. "I am, but I have to be honest with ya; I could really care less about this Winter Soldier. I have my job, and I'm gonna stick with it. I don't back down from a fight. Unless I can be at home eating pizza instead of that said mission." He tapped his chin, as if he was thinking of all the other things he could be doing instead of a S.H.I.E.L.D mission. 

Kate scoffed, crossing her arms. "You're so stubborn."

"Says you."

"At least I'm practical about it."

"Mhm."

He poured himself a cup of coffee, pulling another mug out of the cupboard. "Want some?"

"I actually have some place to be. Thanks, though." Kate gave Clint a punch in the arm, then gave him a little wave. "I'm off, but remember what I said. Just don't be dumb, Clint."

"You know that's really hard for me, Katie-Kate."

With that, she was gone. Clint sighed to himself, enjoying the scent of the coffee wafting under his nose. He never put sugar or cream in it; it would defeat the purpose of making coffee. 

Before he could even take a sip, his phone rang. He blinked, hoping that he was just hearing things. Actually, Clint regretted putting in his hearing aid that morning. "For fucks sake..." He growled, gripping the side of the counter to push himself to the wall phone. He stared at it for a moment, hoping it was just a telemarketer. Clint was never that lucky.

"Clint?" He knew that voice. It was Natasha. "Hey, this is your phone number, right?"

Clint was a little shocked, knowing that Nat would never call him out of fear for being found by the public. "Y...yes? Nat, why are you calling me on my house phone? Why didn't you just page me?"

"It's not really a mission, per say. It's more of...a little meeting? Just get to base as soon as possible." The line went dead, and Clint was still confused. He looked at the phone in his hand, wondering if he had heard he correctly. They never had meetings. This was bad. 

 

"Oh my god."

The room was dark. There was only a sliver of light shining through one of the cracks in the wall. You'd think S.H.I.E.L.D would be able to afford a better building to host meetings in. Tony Stark could afford something nicer. Damn him. 

Natasha was at the head of the table for once, which made Clint even more uneasy. Scott gave him a happy wave, motioning him to sit beside him. The other seat across from Scott was taken, though. Taken by Bucky Barnes. 

His metal arm cast a reflection on the wall, his hair covering a part of his face. It was just pissing Clint off again. He seemed to be good at that, and he didn't even have to talk yet. 

"Why?" Clint asked loudly, pointing directly at Bucky. 

"Take a seat, Clint." Natasha asked, motioning with her head. He rocked back on his heels, wondering if he would get fired for going back home. Probably. Probably worth it at this point, though. 

Clint reluctantly moved, keeping his chair close to Scott. "Explain, please." 

Scott opened his mouth, but Natasha stopped him with a strict look. Scott was just as sarcastic and blunt as Clint, and Natasha already knew it would be a disaster from the start if they both decided to put in their two cents. 

"Sergeant Barnes has information we need on Coffman. He knows exactly where he is now, and what he's doing with more of that serum." Natasha gave Bucky a thoughtful look, and Clint thought he was going to be sick. 

"Then, please, do tell." Clint raised an eyebrow, lacing his fingers together on the table. 

Bucky reguarded him with dead eyes. Clint had a feeling that was how he looked at his victims right before he snapped their neck. Clint would be lying if he said it didn't send a shiver down his spine. 

"Coffman is a follower of Red Skull. He's been working on a way to restore HYDRA to it's full potential, recruiting and brain-washing more men everyday. That's what the serum if for," Bucky moved his shoulders, and everyone in the room was on high alert. "It's not like something I was injected with, or my friend Steve. It's a mind-control serum. Every second we sit in this room, at least ten people get captured and shot with the serum. We have to act now, before HYDRA gets out of hand again."

Clint shifted in his seat. "So, we're just using him for information, right? So," Clint stood up, reaching out a hand across the table. "Guess that's your cue to leave, greaseball. We've got out guy, so let's get going."

Scott raised his eyebrows, looking down at the table. Natasha kept her gaze steady on Clint, her eyes screaming out the words, sorry.

"Actually, Bucky is going to be helping us this time." Before Clint could protest, Natasha raised her hand up. "I know the two of you had a little spiff earlier yesterday but-"

"A...a little 'spiff'?" Clint scoffed in disbelief, shaking his head. "He nearly killed me!"

"A simple mistake when you're hanging out at a secret HYDRA base, don't you think?" Bucky deadpanned, looking up at the archer in annoyance. 

"Okay, listen here-"

"Boys!" Natasha snapped, her teeth clenched. Clint didn't like that look. He never had. 

"Listen, I know you two have a little rivilary thing going on-" Bucky snorted at that, but Natasha kept on. "But we have to get our shit together. We know exactly where Coffman is, and we have to move quickly before we loose him, again. Look alive, boys, because we have a job to finish. I'd like to go home early if possible." 

With that, Natasha stalked passed them, heading out the door. Scott followed with his head down, knowing better than to argue. They all knew better. 

Clint narrowed his eyes at Bucky, who simply shrugged at him. "Guess that's our cue to go."

"I guaruntee she's gonna put us on the same floor."

"You should've known that before you stepped in the room."

Clint was feeling rather childish as he stuck his tongue out at the assassin. Bucky raised an eyebrow, obviously not impressed.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're incredibly annoying?" Bucky asked, adjusting the gun on his hip. 

"Has anyone ever told you that you look like you haven't showered since you were out of the ice?" Clint shot back, his fingers tightening into a fist. 

Bucky's mouth twitched, and Clint felt smugness creeping into his chest. Bucky didn't give in to a smile, though, so the moment faded and they were back in that same shitty room, with that same shitty mission that they were stuck completeing. 

Why did Clint care if he got Bucky to smile?


	4. Things in Common

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint raised an eyebrow, gently crossing his arms over his chest. "Explain?"
> 
> "I noticed the way you were watching Bucky fight. It's captivating, I know. The way his eyes glaze over a bit when he's going to shoot someone; like he can completely shut down his emotions in one setting. It's incredibly entertaining to watch." Natasha's tone had raised, excitment sparking in her voice. 
> 
> Clint felt a little uncomfortable at the fact that she had said almost everything he had been thinking at the time out loud. The only part she missed was his lips. He wondered if Natasha had seen his expression during a fight without the mask on. There was a twinge of jealousy in his gut, and suddenly he hoped that she had appreciated it if she had.

Clint found himself staring at Bucky's sniper rifle, and he was reminded by how much he loved snipers.

"Clint!" A shrill voice shouted, causing him to turn just in time to dodge a bullet. He knew it was Natasha saving his ass for the hundreth time, but he didn't have time to thank her when another explosion set off beside them. 

He felt the heat first, then the searing pain of his arm being licked by flames. He knew his arm was going to be blistered, but he kept the grip on his bow tight. 

He blinked a few times, pulling himself up with his better arm. His eyes scanned the room, watching for his friends. Scott must have shrunk, because he was no where to be seen. Natasha was running up the ramp above their heads, chasing someone in a black suit. She nearly volted herself over the ledge trying to reach them, using her weight to push herself forward using the railing. 

Bucky, on the other hand, was a sight to behold. Clint had never got to watch him fight, but now he knew why so many people were terrified of him. His movements were smooth, unstoppable in a way. He looked over the enemy one time and suddenly knew exactly what they were going to do. His eyes never widened, never creased or changed in emotion. They were a cold, bitter blue. The black mask he used to cover his mouth left Clint's imagination to wonder what his full expression was. He wondered if Bucky clenched his teeth in anger when he was on a mission; or maybe he sneered at his victims underneath that mask. For some reason, he didn't want to know. 

Bucky walked with a type of swagger, which Clint soon realized came from the fact that he had one metal arm, making one side of his body heavier. He used the toe of his combat boot to make a quick strike into the guy's jaw, causing the man to groan and fall limp to the floor. Using the butt of his sniper rifle, (that Clint was defintely _not_ oogling over) the assassin knocked him unconscious. Bucky glanced up at Clint, raising an eyebrow at him before running after Natasha. 

"Hey, we could use your help, you know!" Scott appeared beside him, his eyes narrowed through his red-tinted mask. 

Clint heaved himself off of the floor, allowing Scott to hook an arm under him. "Sometimes I wish that mask muffled your voice."

"Sometimes I wish you would actually help us on a mission instead of goofing around."

"You know I'm the best at that."

Scott sighed, shoving Clint forward so he could stand on his own two feet, then pushed passed him to follow after the others. Clint held his arm, feeling how hot the skin was there. He was pretty sure all of his arm hair was gone now, but it was blond anyways. No one would notice. 

Before Scott and him coud enter the upstairs room, Natasha and Bucky came, pulling out a groveling, pleading man whom Clint recognized immediately. He noticed the sheen on his glasses, and knew they had finally, _finally_ , caught Coffman. 

"The human experiments have already been released, according to this lunatic," The Black Widow glanced down at the fat, short little man who was now crying. "Fury is on the way, along with the police. Job well done, boys." 

Clint rubbed the back of his neck, noticing that Bucky had removed his mask. "I didn't do much, though."

"You can say that again." Scott scoffed, glaring at Clint. 

"I shot a guy out of the air vents when we came in. That counts for somethin', right?"

Natasha gave him a reassuring smile, laying her hand gently on his arm. "We can finally have a celebratory lunch today." 

"Count me out." Bucky inturrupted, making his way back down the ramp. "I have some other business to finish up with Fury if we're going to be doing further missions together." 

Clint groaned, rolling his head back. "You mean we have to do _more_ missions with him? I thought this was the only one!"

Natasha looked like she was biting back a smile, but it was hard to read her expressions sometimes. For most people it was hopeless. "Come on, boys. I have a date with that bacon burger at the food cart in West Avenue."

* * *

After lunch, Natasha came back to Clint's apartment. It was something they did every now and then, allowing themselves the freedom of friendship outside of work. Scott came over once in a while too, but most of the time just crashed on Clint's couch with a half eaten sandwich in hanging out of his mouth. Lucky normally would snatch it up, but sometimes Scott would start eating it in his sleep. Clint had raised him so well. 

Natasha curled up on the corner of the couch, her fingers running through Lucky's fur absentmindedly. Clint threw himself beside her, letting his feet fall in her lap. "You know, even though I didn't do much, I'm beat."

"You took the pretty blunt end of an explosion, Clint. That's gonna do some damage on you." She said sofly, relaxing her back into the sofa. The silence in the room was nice, but Clint knew if he didn't get his answers now, he never would. 

"So," He sat up, propping himself on his elbows. "How did you and Bucky meet?"

Natasha grimaced a bit, as if this topic wasn't very amusing to her. "I'm surprised you weren't asking me that as soon as you found out I dated him."

"I wanted to, but I also wanted to finish my burger."

Natasha rolled her eyes, but she was also smiling. "He helped train me in the Red Room. We were both made into weapons, so we had a lot of common ground. I couldn't deny that he wasn't charming, so for a few months we dated. Then, he was kidnapped and brain-washed by HYDRA. He remembers me now, but we lost touch. Along with a lot of feelings for one another." She gave a little shrug, as if none of it was a big deal. Just a little spiff in her path to world domination. 

"So, you guys are over? Just like that?" Clint asked, rubbing his arm nervously. He could feel the blisters beginning to form on his skin, wishing he kept aloe vera in his house. 

"It wasn't that big of a deal, Clint." 

"I guess not. It makes sense, though."

"What do you mean?"

"The way you two move-it's incredibly similar. I noticed that you both have the same round-house kick. The fact that you both trained together shows." Clint explained, keeping his eyes on Nat's face. 

"Guess we are a little similar then, huh?" Natasha's face softened, her green eyes lighting up a bit. 

"You could say that again."

"No, I meant you and me."

Clint raised an eyebrow, gently crossing his arms over his chest. "Explain?"

"I noticed the way you were watching Bucky fight. It's captivating, I know. The way his eyes glaze over a bit when he's going to shoot someone; like he can completely shut down his emotions in one setting. It's incredibly entertaining to watch." Natasha's tone had raised, excitment sparking in her voice. 

Clint felt a little uncomfortable at the fact that she had said almost everything he had been thinking at the time out loud. The only part she missed was his lips. He wondered if Natasha had seen his expression during a fight without the mask on. There was a twinge of jealousy in his gut, and suddenly he hoped that she had appreciated it if she had. 

"He was okay." 

"Oh, come on."

"I mean, I don't know how he can stand to fight when all of that greasy hair is in his face. Bet his hands get too slick when he touches his hair and makes it hard to hold his gun." Clint teased, listening to Natasha laugh loudly. She smacked his knee, which only made him grin wider. It was hard to get Nat to laugh, but he always managed it somehow. At least someone thought he was funny. 

Natasha rubbed at her eyes, letting out a delighted sigh. "I have to go, Clint. Enjoy the rest of your day off, okay?" She got up, gave him their usual parting kiss on the cheek, and she was gone. Lucky whined, sitting where Nat had been. Clint sat up to pet him, rubbing that special spot behind his ears. 

"I know, but she'll be back again soon, buddy." Clint assured him, looking into those sad, little eyes. 

Clint fell asleep soon after, his dreams filled with the sound of the mechanical whirl on Bucky's arm, and the reminder of how much he really loved snipers.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh I love all of the positive feedback I've been getting on this! (Also, just because I don't reply to your comment doesn't mean I haven't read it, I'm just terrible at responding to things without sounding generic. Just know I appreciate them all!)


	5. The Stake-Out That Wasn't Really a Stake-Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha knows exactly what she's doing, so Clint can't argue much when she decides to put Bucky and him on a "Stake-Out" mission together.   
> Bucky just wants a Butterfinger, but all Clint has is a Snickers and a tragic backstory.

"How have things been with the old Winter Soldier?" Kate asked, closing the silverware drawer with her hip. She dipped the spoon in her coffee, popping the sugar coated silverware in her mouth after stirring. 

Clint rubbed his eyes, wondering how long he had actually slept. It never felt like enough. Clint knew deep down the only way he was ever going to get a full eight hours of sleep and feel rested was when he was dead. With Kate's constant nagging and snide comments, death should come fairly quickly at this rate. 

Rain pattered on the window, the city still alive bustling people and car horns blarring in the distance. The sky was dark, but the neon lights made it seem like it was the middle of the afternoon. Clint had decided long ago that he loved living in bustling cities, due to the fact that everyone was so busy with their own lives, that they would never bother him. Only if the world needed his help. He really wished it didn't sometimes. 

"He's still annoying," Clint mumbled, staring into his black coffee. "He fights like a champ, though. Don't think anyone could take him down." 

"Not even you?" Kate asked, her voice mocking. He didn't have to see her expression to know she was teasing him and his non-existent ego. Maybe he just hated having his talents compared to that metal-armed bastard. 

"I could take him on if I needed to. I'd just rather be on his side if it came down to an actual fight." Clint informed, thinking ' _fuck it_ ' and downing the rest of the coffee straight from the pot. Kate scowled in disgust, pulling the coffee grinds towards her. 

"No more of that for you, nasty." 

"You know it's my life line, Kate."

"Maybe it's time to be taken off life-support, Bud."

Clint rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched. "Think I'm gonna go back to bed. Feel free to hang around or just, ya know, leave." Clint got up, stretching his arms out and yawning loudly. He had almost set his first foot on the stairs, when the pager on the table buzzed to life, nearly vibrating off the table. 

Clint stopped breathing, turning slowly. "Please, no."

Kate smirked at him, holding the pager in her hand. "No nap for you today. Looks like the team needs you." 

Clint groaned, pressing his face into his hands. "I hate my job."

* * *

"You're kidding, right?"

"Nope. Barton, you're on look-out with Barnes." Natasha stated, placing her hands on her hips. You knew the decision was final if she made that gesture at you. 

Clint lolled his head to the side, looking up at the assassin next to him. "Can I nap on this stake-out?" 

"If you want to fail another mission for us, then go right ahead." 

Scott was snickering in the background, so Clint ran a finger across his throat and kept direct eye-contact with the man. Scott stuck his tongue out, crossing his eyes in a childish gesture. 

"You know, this mission would go by faster if Scott went with Clint on the stake-out. You and me could just attack the enemy, then be done." Bucky suggested, his stone cold eyes glaring down at the archer. 

"I think this will be good for you two. An archer and a sniper. It'll be quick once we lead the enemy to you. One shot, then we go home." Natasha nodded, as if this arrangement pleased her. "Let's head out." 

Clint felt the urge to scream, but he had learned to do that on the inside when he realized he would be stuck with his prick of a father for most of his chldhood. He adjusted the strap on his back, walking ahead of Bucky. He heard the soldier following him, but he refused to look back. 

* * *

Clint sat in the middle of the floor, feeling the cold concrete against his thighs. Bucky stood near the windows, a pair of binoculars in his metal hand. The room was a perfect square, a filthy cot pushed to the side of the wall. There was a door on the side of the building, and Clint was contemplating if he would get fired if he just got up and left. Maybe. 

The silence was deafening, and Clint didn't need anymore of that. He reached behind him, pulling his backpack into his lap. He poured an arrangement of junk food on to the floor, the crunching and crackling of paper cutting through the tension. Bucky's head snapped around, his eyebrows nearly reaching his hairline. 

"What the hell is all that?" He asked incrediously. 

"Snacks. I always bring snacks when we're out on a mission." Clint shrugged, as if this was the obvious thing to do. "Now we won't starve."

"We're only going to be here for a few hours at the latest, Clint." The way he said Clint's name sent a sharp chill down his spine. 

"That could be a few hours that we're starving, but now we won't, because I brought snacks." 

Bucky sighed heavily, rolling his eyes in disbelief. "Did you bring Butterfingers?"

"Butterfingers are the food of fools." 

"You're the only  _fool_  here." Bucky snorted, glancing out the window before he sat in front of Clint. "What did you bring, then?"

Clint bit his lip in concentration, sorting through the pile of treats. "Do you like Snickers? It's the only chocolate I have, I think."

"It'll do."

Clint handed him one, and he tried not to flinch when Bucky's metal finger brushed across his. He hoped Bucky hadn't noticed; he noticed everything, though. 

"Sorry." Bucky whispered, quickly tearing into the candy bar. Clint was mentally punching himself in the gut. 

"No, it wasn't-" Clint rubbed the back of his neck, his throat dry. "The cold. It just startled me. It's not the-"

"The fact that I have an arm made of metal?" Bucky finished, his voice tense. 

Clint let out a deep breath, trying to relax his tense muscles. "I don't think it's weird, you know. I mean, you didn't choose to have that. HYDRA made that choice for you." Clint was cursing himself again, wondering how touchy this subject was with him. If you had been brainwashed and turned into a killing assassin that had no remorse for his victims, wouldn't the subject spark a fire in you? 

Bucky was still for a moment, his eyes looking heavy. It looked like he was straining to keep them open, as if he had seen so much in such little time. Clint had just realized he wasn't wearing his normal black, smeared makeup. His eyes looked duller now, without something to bring them out. The dark circles under his eyes only dimmed them more. Clint wondered if his eyes had ever looked bright; had he ever looked at someone with that light of adoration? Had he looked at Natasha like that before he went under? 

"I think I would be more comfortable if you felt like it  _was_  weird." Bucky said solemnly, his voice seeming more rugged and tired than he had ever heard. It was low, and Clint was thankful he could read lips. "I know I didn't choose to have this arm, but now it seems like it's all I've got. Just an ugly reminder of what they did to me. Not a very good souvenir, huh?" He spit a bitter laugh, biting a chunk out of his Snickers. 

Clint didn't smile. Hell, he didn't even feel hungry anymore. That was unusual for Clint. 

"I didn't mean to bring it up like that. I mean, I've got a disability too, ya know." Clint tapped at the hearing aid attached to his ear, the corner of his mouth upturned. 

"You're deaf? I was wondering why you were always staring so intensely at my lips when we talked sometimes." Bucky propped his elbows on his knees, straightening his back to he could see Clint better. 

A flush of heat ran down Clint's ears and neck. "Uh, yeah. I'm only 80% deaf in each ear." The only good thing about being deaf: Clint could get away with staring at people's lips without it being weird. He could admire people's lips for as long as he wanted, and they would always just assume he was trying to read the words they were forming. That was normally the case, but he would be a liar if he said he hadn't watched the way Bucky licked his lips when he was focusing on something. How they were flushed with a soft pink, and slightly chapped in the middle. He could feel himself still staring, and the blush on his face was growing more rapidly. 

"80% is almost all of it." Bucky snorted, the corner of his lips twitching in a faint smile. Clint had noticed that Bucky had more worry lines that ran along the top of his forehead, rather than smile lines. He didn't imagine that assassin had that much to smile about these days, anyways. 

Clint hummed, realizing that he wasn't listening that much. He had been focusing on the way Bucky's face was formed, taking the oppertunity since he would probably never be this close to him again. He realized with another flush of heat that they weren't very far apart. He hoped Bucky would ignore the blush spreading to his cheeks. 

"How did it happen?" Bucky asked, licking his lips. Clint blinked, realized that he had been asked a question. 

"Uh," Clint cleared his throat, his eyes focusing anywhere but on Bucky. "A while ago, there were some thugs that raided my apartment building. They killed my friend. Realized that the guy was still in the building, so me, being the honorary dumbass I am, went up the roof without anyone to cover me. Clown shoved an arrow in my ear." Clint's throat felt like it was closing. He could remember the shattering feeling of pain in his ears, could hear the  _ripping_  and  _tearing_  of the flesh as his own arrowhead went directly into his ear canal. A cold chill ran throughout his body, causing him to shiver. 

Bucky's eyes were wide, visibly cringing when he told the part of the arrow in his ears. "Jesus Christ, that's monstrous." 

"Yeah, but I mean this isn't the first time. I was deaf as a kid, too. Always had hearin' problems." Clint shrugged, wishing he hadn't brough that part up. He could already remember the table crashing into him as his father called him broken. 

Bucky seemed to sense that this was a subject that was brimming with terrible memories. "I'm surprised Natasha didn't tell me about the fact you were deaf. I can't believe I didn't even noticed the hearing aid."

Clint gave a helpless grin, brushing the hair out of his face. "Guess you don't notice everything, huh, assassin?"

Bucky pursed his lips, but then he let a light smile fold onto them. His eyes softened a degree, then it hit Clint: he recogized that expression. It went back to those weeks that seemed like months ago. When he had busted that joke on this deadly soldier, that dumb horny school girl joke that could have gotten him  _killed_. The eyes that had sparked something, almost a reluctant humor. 

Bucky had been smiling behind that mask when Clint had cracked that stupid, stupid joke. Clint was still trying to define exactly how he had felt about this realization, when there a banging at the door. 

"He's coming to you!" A voice shouted over their headset, and Clint could faintly hear it. He felt like he was a million miles away, when he was supposed to doing his job, right  _here_ , in the  _present_. 

Bucky had tensed up, whipping his gun off his back with one, smooth movement. Clint glanced up, noticing that his legs didn't want to move. Absentmindly, almost as if it was instinct, he notched an arrow in his bow, barely glancing at the target, before he let go with a slow breath. 

The arrow went flying past Bucky's face, causing him to nearly fall back. "Clint, what the-"

He was cut off by the enemy screaming. He was gripping his forearm in pain, an arrow directly through the palm of his hand. His gun had been knocked to the ground, giving Bucky the oppertunity to snatch it, holding it firmly to the man's head. "Got him. It's over."

Bucky kicked the man down, gripping his arms behind his back as he continued to moan in agony, blood speckling against the concrete floor. Clint was staring, realizing he hadn't even gave that shot a second thought. He stood, his legs a little shakey. The thought to pick up his snacks crossed his mind for a moment, but it was hard to think with the enemy screaming. 

"Barton, that was..." Bucky's voice trailed off, astonishment creeping at the edge of his voice. "That was incredible, did you even aim that?"

"Have to aim to shoot." Clint deadpanned, adjusting the gloves on his hands in a nervous habit. "You-"

Natasha and Scott barged in, giving them both a look of triumph. "Good job, boys. This was over quicker than I expected. Aren't you glad I let you two run the stake-out?"

"It wasn't much of a stake-out, but sure." Bucky huffed, picking up the candy bar wrapper he had dropped during the fight. He turned back, his eyebrows raising as he noticed that Clint wasn't looking too eager to move. 

"You coming, Barton?"

"You...you laughed at my joke?" Clint asked, confusion clouding up his thoughts. 

Bucky grimaced, looking almost as confused as Clint was feeling. "What are you talking about?"

"You...nevermind." Clint had lost the energy to bring it up. He wished he hadn't, but his throat felt dry again, and he realized how tired he was. 

Bucky gripped Clint's wrist, pulling him forward to meet his pace. "You look a little rough. Job's done, let's go home."

The way Bucky said home filled Clint was a strange emptiness. As if everything that Clint was missing was bubbling to the surface. He looked up at Bucky, his eyes narrowed. Whenever Bucky let go of his wrist, he left a buring sensation of where their skin had met. Clint was glad that he had let go, but only because he felt like his nerves were going to explode. 

He missed his bed. 


	6. Clint Sulks About his Shitty Relationships

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky turned to him, his hands shaking a bit. He almost looked like Clint had caught him off guard. "What? I didn't laugh at you." 
> 
> "You smiled."
> 
> "I was wearing a mask."
> 
> "Your eyes crinkle when you smile."
> 
> Oh god, oh no, Clint you absolute fucking idiot-
> 
> Bucky raised an eyebrow. He didn't seem offended by this observation, but almost intrigued. He stepped towards Clint, tilting his head up slightly. The gesture sent something hot and searing into Clint's stomach. 
> 
> "I do?" The question was quiet, and Clint didn't know if he had just whispered or his hearing aid was turned down too low. "Hm. Never noticed."

"You did that on purpose."

The phone was pressed between Clint's ear and his shoulder. He was sprawled out in his twin-sized bed, his eyes boring into the ceiling. He knew he shouldn't be on his cellphone with Natasha, but he had to have someone to chew out for the past mission. 

"Did what?" Natasha asked innocently, and Clint could picture her checking out her long finger nails, playing it all of like the little devil she was. 

"You put Bucky and me on that mission together. You didn't think we'd do well together, you just wanted us alone so we'd have to face one another." Clint huffed, trying to find the energy to be angry, but he was too tired. He was always too tired. 

"The mission went great, why are you complaining?" She was rolling her eyes, Clint could _feel_ it. "Besides, you both work incredibly well together. Too bad the two of you normally won't stop bickering long enough to figure that out." 

"Can I ask you somethin'?"

"You're going to anyways, so why should I stop you."

"Did Bucky ever like...smile? Laugh a little? I dunno, he just seems...cold," Clint adjusted the phone, patting Lucky on the head as he laid on Clint's legs. 

"Bucky has emotions, he just has a hard time dealing with them."

"I mean, _same_."

"James and I didn't break up because he was a bad person, you know." The way she said James sent a slight chill down his spine. It was weird, hearing his real name. Clint still wasn't sure if he liked it or not. "We broke up because we got disconnected. Once Bucky was kidnapped and brain-washed by HYDRA, we just lost contact."

"So...does that mean you're technically still dating?" Clint tried to make himself sound uninterested, as if the question was just a casual thing between friends. It kind of wasn't. 

Natasha let out a quiet laugh, the kind where she would normally shake her head and bat her eyelashes like he was just a silly boy in high school. "If you wanna date Bucky, then go for it. Everything died off a long time ago. I promise, I won't be mad."

Clint rubbed his face, trying to calm his breathing so he didn't sound like a pervert through the phone. "I'm not-I don't wanna _date him_ , Tasha. Jesus, I just asked a question." 

"I was just letting you know he's free game."

"Yeah, well thanks, I guess." Clint sighed, goosebumps rising on his arms. "I gotta go. If there's a mission, count me out."

"I'll make sure to call you at least six times if you don't answer."

Clint smiled reluctantly, huffing a laugh into the speaker. "You're a brat. Don't ever change."

"Don't plan on it."

The line went dead, and he knew that Natasha was already getting a new phone number. She was paranoid like that. She had every right to be, though. 

Clint let out a heavy sigh. He stared at the ceiling, the only sound coming from his dusty alarm clock on his bed side table. The clicking was light, but it was the only thing keeping Clint afloat as he drifted into his thoughts. 

He couldn't stop thinking about the fact that he had made Bucky smile. He didn't get to see it, per say, but he recognized it when he saw him smiling the other night. People had always thought that Clint Barton was stupid, and they weren't _entirely_ wrong, but they were still wrong. Clint observed people so closely. He watched the way they reacted to every possible situation. 

When he was really interested in someone, he made his business to watch their reactions when they were angry, upset, happy, you name it. When he would take out his hearing aid, he had to rely on people expressing their emotions to be fully immersed in a conversation; hell, he needed it to be fully _immersed_ in a person. He could read lips just fine, he'd been doing it almost all of his life. Even when he could hear before, he still watched their lips out of habit. 

Clint relied on other people's body language to help him understand the area around him. Watching Bucky had been a strange observation, but he had been enjoying it nonetheless. 

He noticed the way that Bucky would jut out his hip when they were standing; while he was listening to someone explain something. He would let his heavy side fall limp, and his eyes would move back and forth as he watched someone explain something to him. His eyes were a dull shade of blue without his makeup, and Clint had noticed that more so the other night. He liked that they were dull; it gave him more time to focus on the other features of his face. Like the worry lines across his forehead that showed even more prominently when he furrowed his brows together. How when he clenched his teeth in frustration, his cheeksbones would chisel out. 

Clint blinked, feeling himself blush. He _hated_ when he got like this. He remembered looking that way at his ex-wife Bobbi. The way he had focused and caught on to her mannerisms. Vegas felt so far away now, and the familiar ache from all of the alcohol that summer night was spreading back into his gut. 

He had really bad commitment issues. It was hard for him to feel like he was good enough for these people. He wanted to devote every second of his life to them, but his insecurities dragged him away. He was afraid the closer he got to them, the further away they would stray. He kept his friends at arms-length, but he tried so hard to keep holding on to them. Scott, Nat, and Kate were all he had. Lucky, too, of course. He used his humor to cover up how stressed and anxious he felt all the time. Most of the time, no one ever laughed at his jokes. They only laughed at his life, because it was one big joke. 

He craved company, but he never kept any because Clint never felt like he deserved it. The whole marriage to Bobbi had him fucked up in the feelings department, so now he didn't want anyone. He just pushed them away, and made sure that he knew he didn't deserve to ever fully be happy. 

A rap at the door startled Clint out of his self-depreciating thoughts. He figured it was Kate, so he took his time getting to the door. He let his fingers slide through his hair, ruffling up his short spikes. He felt a little uneasy when he opened the door to find Bucky Barnes standing there. 

Clint blinked, jumping back a bit. "Bucky? How did you-why are you in my apartment building?"

Bucky looked at him, a grave look on his face. He was wearing a long-sleeved t-shirt, probably to cover up his metal arm during the day time. Smart move, Greaseball. 

Bucky looked him over, and Clint was suddenly self-conscious. His pajama pants probably didn't look too flattering on him, but this was his house dammit, and he would dress the way he wanted. Even if that meant dressing like a total slob. 

"I asked Natasha where you lived, and she told me."

Clint's mouth hung open, a scowl forming on his face. "Whoa, what-"

"May I come in?"

"Why would Natasha tell you where I live? That is so against bro-code." Clint threw his head back and sighed dramatically, reluctantly letting Bucky slide past his doorway. "What did you want to know for anyway? Come to annoy me?"

Bucky snorted, walking into the middle of his living room. "You're the only one annoying around here."

"Then why did you come to see me if you think I'm so annoying?" Clint asked, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. He tried to avoid staring at the way Bucky's back muscles tensed each time Clint took a step forward. 

"I don't...I don't know, honestly?" Bucky turned to him, his face a blank slate. "I felt like I should know where you live. Since we've been on so many missions."

"We've been on _three_ together, Bucky. One of them you tried to shoot me in the face." 

"You talked about how I was a horny school girl." 

Clint huffed, something between a laugh and a gasp. "You laughed, though." Clint couldn't stop himself from saying it this time. It was weird; he had been so caught up in the moment earlier on that mission-so dumbfounded by the whole thing. He couldn't even bring himself to finish the sentence that day. Now, with Bucky's witty banter at his side, talking about it was almost as easy as breathing. 

Bucky turned to him, his hands shaking a bit. He almost looked like Clint had caught him off guard. "What? I didn't laugh at you." 

"You smiled."

"I was wearing a mask."

"Your eyes crinkle when you smile."

_Oh god, oh no, Clint you absolute fucking idiot_ -

Bucky raised an eyebrow. He didn't seem offended by this observation, but almost intrigued. He stepped towards Clint, tilting his head up slightly. The gesture sent something hot and searing into Clint's stomach. 

"I do?" The question was quiet, and Clint didn't know if he had just whispered or his hearing aid was turned down too low. "Hm. Never noticed."

The sheer audacity this man had. Clint had just blurted out one of the most embarrassing observations someone could make about their fellow assassin, and Bucky had shrugged it off. The innocense in his voice made his teeth clench, and the way he slowly blinked at Clint. God, Bucky Barnes was a little fucker. 

"Can you tell me what you want so I can get you the fuck outta my house?" Clint snapped, clenching his fists at his sides. 

"Wanted to know if you wanted to go on one of those after mission lunches."

"Those are only for after missions. Hence the name."

"Well lucky for you, I got us a mission." Bucky grinned, jamming a piece of paper into Clint's chest. 

Clint snatched the piece of paper away, reading over the words carefully. "Why no Nat or Scott?"

"Thought it would be easier if it was just the two of us." Bucky deadpanned, his voice a little lower than usual. 

Clint tried to hold a back an uncharacteristic whine, letting the paper fall to the floor. An address was printed in messy hand writing. "Well, I hope you shoot a gun better than you can write down an address." 

Bucky snorted out a laugh, adjusting the backpack on his shoulders. "Let's go, Hawkguy."

"Hawk _eye_."

"I know," Bucky nodded, back at him, leading the way out of his building. "Some guy on the bottom floor told me that's what he called you."

Clint groaned, but didn't mind the view from walking behind Bucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, only a chapter away from where it starts to get more exciting. Hope you all are still enjoying my dumb boys who don't know how to express their feelings!


	7. The Mission is a Bust, and the Date Sucks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Oh, you know I'm not cranky because I'm hungry. It's because you wouldn't go down on me in the bathroom stall." Clint mouthed, resting his chin on his hand as he looked up at Bucky through his lashes. 
> 
> Bucky looked like was grinding his teeth in the efforts to ditch a grin. He leaned in closer to Clint, thumping his forehead. "Clint."
> 
> "Ouch!" Clint knocked over his glass, dramatically gripping his head. The girl had almost completely turned around now. "Well, guess who isn't getting any make-up sex tonight! You should be ashamed of yourself, Mr. Shay." Clint spat out the last word, mocking him. 
> 
> The girl was obviously blushing now, standing up to walk away from the table, her purse clutched in her hand. Bucky turned to Clint after watching her, shaking his head. His shoulders were shaking, and Clint knew he was laughing. 
> 
> "You're going to run off all of our fellow guests." Bucky shrugged in defeat, letting himself laugh out loud now. His laugh was as deep as his voice, and Clint was reminded of all of those feelings he had pushed aside.

Clint hated ties. His hatered for Bucky was starting to rise again. It was starting to look like a lose-lose situation. 

"Whenever you said mission," Clint started, nearly choking himself as he tried to adjust his tie around his neck. "I didn't think you meant a formal dinner party."

Bucky gave him a smug smile, tilting his chin up. "It _is_ a mission, Barton. The guy we need is here, he's hosting the party. Pretty sure he's keeping one of those human experimentations hostage here." Bucky turned to look at Clint, who still seemed to be struggling. Bucky frowned, his eyes narrowing. "Either fix the damn tie or throw it in the garbage, Barton. Jesus Christ."

Clint glared, letting the tie fall from his fingertips onto the floor. "Fine. I hate those things anyways." 

Bucky hooked an arm under Clint's, causing him to let out a soft yelp. " _Excuse me_?"

"It's a party. If we want to blend in, we have to act like we're having fun." Bucky explained, the corner of his mouth upturned in a half-smile. 

"I'm not having fun, though."

"I said _act_ like it."

"Are the drinks free?"

"Well, yeah, it's a party."

"Nevermind, I'm having fun."

Clint sauntered towards the Champaign table, dragging Bucky along with him. He didn't realize how heavy Bucky was compared to him. He snatched one up, downing it in one setting. Bucky raised an eyebrow at him, taking one for himself. 

"Jesus, if you keep that up, you'll be drunk in no time." The soldier muttered, sipping on his Champaign. 

"That's kind of the point, Greaseball." Clint mumbled into his next glass, wishing they had something harder here. Fancy, rich people always gave out the shittiest alcohol. Clint had seen teenagers who could steal better alcohol than these people. 

"Ah, Mr. Shay, so nice to see you here." A voice called, belonging to a man that had a thick, British accent. Both of them turned, Bucky stretching out his gloved hand to shake his hand. "And this is your date, I presume?"

Clint nearly snorted into his glass of Champaign. He turned, his mouth hanging open in protest, about to interject when Bucky stopped him. 

"Yes, isn't he a charmer? Dear, you've got Champaign dripping down your nose." Bucky smiled tightly, wiping it off for him before Clint could stop him. Clint wasn't sure what was going on, but he felt like if he stopped it, their mission would be over. Clint couldn't afford that again. Especially not at the hands of Bucky Barnes. 

"This is Clint. He works for the CIA, with me. That's how we met." Bucky informed the other man, nodding with certainty, as if confirming his own story. Clint wanted to punch that smug little smile off of his face. 

"Very nice to see both of you here. Out so boldly, too." Clint knew that tone too well. The mocking, condescending tone that people took when they weren't happy for you, but they wanted to point out your flaws in a way that didn't make them look like an ass. It was how people hide their disdain in normaly everyday conversations so people wouldn't call them out on it. Clint had defintely already been rubbed the wrong way by ths guy. 

Bucky tilted his head, his lids heavy as he observed the spindly man in front of them. It was as if he were marking down all of the different ways he could kill this man with only his hands. Clint still wasn't sure if he liked that look on Bucky or not. 

"As always. We'll be seeing you, Mr. Clary." Bucky finished coldly, but he was still smiling politely. That tone of voice sent a chill down Clint's spine; one that flustered Clint in a way he wished it didn't. 

Bucky pulled Clint away, keeping him close to him. Bucky pulled them to a table, hiding behind the tacky centerpiece in the middle. 

"You could have at least told me we were dating." Clint offered, his eyebrows raised. 

Bucky chuckled, glancing around the room. "That wouldn't have been as fun as seeing the look on your face when I introduced you as my date."

Clint bit his lip to keep from smiling. "I hate you, Barnes."

The girl in front of them at the table, turned slightly. Her eyes staring ahead, but Clint could tell their conversation had peaked her interest. 

"Honey, don't be like that. I know you get cranky when you haven't had enough to eat." Bucky had started talking louder, apparently noticing the girl too. Clint smirked, leaning his back against the chair. Oh, so Bucky wanted to play these games? Too bad Clint was the champion of them. 

"Oh, you know I'm not cranky because I'm hungry. It's because you wouldn't go down on me in the bathroom stall." Clint mouthed, resting his chin on his hand as he looked up at Bucky through his lashes. 

Bucky looked like was grinding his teeth in the efforts to ditch a grin. He leaned in closer to Clint, thumping his forehead. " _Clint_."

"Ouch!" Clint knocked over his glass, dramatically gripping his head. The girl had almost completely turned around now. "Well, guess who isn't getting any make-up sex tonight! You should be ashamed of yourself, Mr. _Shay_." Clint spat out the last word, mocking him. 

The girl was obviously blushing now, standing up to walk away from the table, her purse clutched in her hand. Bucky turned to Clint after watching her, shaking his head. His shoulders were shaking, and Clint knew he was laughing. 

"You're going to run off all of our fellow guests." Bucky shrugged in defeat, letting himself laugh out loud now. His laugh was as deep as his voice, and Clint was reminded of all of those feelings he had pushed aside. 

"Hey, you wanna pretend like we're dating? Then I'll play the full part, Barnes." Clint shrugged, running a hand through his close-cropped hair. "Hey, where is the guy we're supposed to be arresting anyways?"

"The host doesn't come down until after the first dance. Haven't you ever been to a party before?" Bucky asked, flexing his fingers idly. 

"Not any lame ones like these." 

Bucky rolled his eyes. Music starting to play; a piano from the sound of it. Bucky extended out his gloved hand, looking at Bucky through dark lashes. "Guess we better dance to make the time go by fast, huh?"

Clint grimaced, not accepting the hand. He stood, shoving his hands in the pockets of his pants. "We don't have to do that, but I guess if you're offerin'."

Bucky chuckled, following after Clint. The dance floor wasn't crowded, but there was enough people out there to still shield Clint. Clint didn't want to tell Bucky that hadn't danced in years. He didn't even know if he had danced. Clint didn't want to think about it too hard, but his stomach was a bundle of nervese as he gently placed his hand into Buckys. 

"I'm assuming I'll lead?" Bucky asked, his voice steady and quiet. 

"Don't you always?" Clint mumbled, not meeting his eyes. 

"At least pretend like you like me, jeez."

"It's too hard. I'll stick with my loathing for you instead."

Bucky groaned, the two of them moving together to the music. The melody was light, unlike Bucky's grip on Clint's hip. No one could see the metal hand, but Clint could _feel_ the difference. It was binding, like Clint couldn't get away even if he tried. Maybe he didn't want to. 

"Listen, I don't exactly like you either, but I knew you'd be good for this mission." Bucky stated, turning them in a circle unexpectedly. Clint gasped a bit, trying to keep up with Bucky. He seemed like he had been doing this for years, and then it hit Clint that he really had. Sometimes, Clint forgot that Bucky had been frozen for all of those years, then brought back to be a weapon for HYDRA. It probably never slipped Bucky's mind, though. 

"You liked me enough to pretend to date me for this mission." Clint supplied, following Bucky's graceful movements, forgetting that they were in the middle of a dance floor for a moment. 

Bucky snorted, rolling his eyes fondly. "You really won't let that part go, will you? You know how many girls would have been thrilled to be in your position?"

"Sounds like someone's a little cocky."

"Not cocky, just speaking the truth. So many women swooned over my dance skills in the fourties."

"It's not the fourties anymore."

"I know," Bucky nodded, licking his lips. "Which is exactly why I'm dancing with another man in the middle of a dinner party run by a HYDRA agent." 

"Fair enough."

It took Clint a moment to realize that they had stopped, along with the soft music. They clapped with the others, Clint's eyes going straight for the staircase at the front of the room. A man descended from the top of the stairs, his suit a dark navy color that didn't go well with his fake blond hair. As he was speaking, Bucky leaned down, his breath tickling Clint's ear. 

"I'm going to distract him once he's done. After that, head up the stairs and look for that hostage. I know she's up there." 

Clint nodded, walking behind the crowd, trying to blend in. The archer watched as Bucky moved swiftly, shaking hands with the host. Bucky leaned in, whispering something in his ear. Clint had a feeling he already knew what it was, giving him the signal to book it. 

* * *

The only room he knew would be open was the host's bedroom. He searched the room, looking for some secret button or hinge that would allow entrance to some other room. 

He dug through his drawers, finding a strange assortment of lube, hand-cuffs, and a whip. Clint scowled in disgust, throwing them to the floor. 

"Jesus, and I thought I was kinky." Clint muttered, reaching under the bed-side table. His fingers grazed a small hole drilled into the wood, hiding a small button.

"Bingo." Clint breathed, pressing it as hard as he could. There was a loud groan, and then a creak as the entire wall behind him began to flip. 

"Secret room in the wall? Really? Lame." Clint mocked, slipping between the crack of the wall and the door. 

When he entered the room, he noticed there was nothing in it. Secret rooms were normally built have something in them, right? Clint blinked, the sudden realization setting in as the floor caved in under him. 

He fell from the ceiling, crash landing into a table back down in the dining hall. There were spots in his vision as he glanced up, wondering how many stories he just fell. 

"Clint!" Bucky called, his voice sounding so far away. "-set up!" Clint couldn't make out the rest, wondering if he was just really that out of it, or his hearing aid had went back to factory settings. It felt like there was rushing water in his ears as he stood up, stumbling over as he tried to make out where Bucky was. 

His eyes settled on his metal arm, noticing the arm of his sleeve had been torn off. He held a hand gun in one hand, and he had his other arm wrapped around someone's neck. Clint didn't pack his bow, since that would have been hard to get through security. Clint ran towards them, rearing his arm back as his fist made contact with the man's jaw. 

Bucky let him drop to the floor, his eyes wide as he looked Clint over. "Jesus Christ, are you okay?"

Clint was pretty sure he had sprained both of his wrists from trying to catch himself. He also couldn't see very well, unsure if was still just dizzy or if there was drywall in his eye. "Yeah, I've had worse."

"There wasn't a hostage. This mission was a set up to get us out from under S.H.I.E.L.D's radar." Bucky explained, his voice strained as he used his metal arm to lay out another victim. 

"Probably shouldn't of taken the mission if it wasn't through S.H.I.E.L.D, dumbass." Clint chided, gritting his teeth as used a nearby chair as leverage to jump into a bigger man who seemed like he was ready to throw Clint throw a wall. He had already been through a ceiling, so it couldn't get any worse. 

"So what do we do?" Clint yelled, hearing the man grunt under his boot. 

"Abandon the mission!"

"Yikes, that's not very in character for you, is it?"

" _Clint_!"

"Yeah, yeah. Let's get out of here," Clint grumbled, already making his way to the exit. "The booze sucked here, anyways."

Bucky was on his heels, catching up with his pace. "We need to get a few more feet away. There was a bomb planted in the center of the house."

"Just the icing on the cake, isn't it?" Clint growled, falling forward into a patch of grass near the sidewalk. The earth shook under them as the house only a block away burst into flames, beginning to crumble into dust. Clint's chest was heaving as he laid back, the grass feeling like knives on his skin. 

Bucky tried catching his breath, falling onto one knee next to Clint. 

After a moment of silence, Bucky cleared his throat. "Are you okay? Your wrists look really bad."

"M'fine." Clint hissed, the feeling of Bucky's fingers on the swollen area making it ache more. 

"Here," Bucky reached into his pocket, pulling out some gauze. "This will keep them stiff for a bit, but you should still be able to shoot." The soldier began wrapping Clint's wrists, his touch light and leaving a warmth on his bruised skin. 

Clint looked up at Bucky, his eyes watching as Bucky furrowed his brow in concentration. Clint used his free hand to reach up, pressing his finger lightly at Bucky's temple. He stopped, giving Clint a puzzled look. Clint didn't feel like explaining the fact that if Bucky kept that expression up, he was going to have wrinkles. He figured someone like him didn't really care. 

"Some date, huh?" Clint's voice was scratchy. Bucky pinched the skin between his nose, deepening the wrinkles starting to form there. 

"It wasn't an actual date, you moron." 

"You've just been using me for my body this entire time, haven't you?"

"Clint, you are by the far the most annoying person I've ever met." Bucky chuckled, letting Clint's wrists fall into his lap. Clint gave him a lop-sided smile, the sound of sirens wailing in the background. 

Clint got called another mission that night, but one actually through S.H.I.E.L.D.

 

 


	8. An Assassin in my Apartment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No-that’s not-just sit in the damn chair.” Clint pushed at Bucky’s shoulder, forcing him to stay in the stool. “It’s not really a problem, I just don’t get why you wanna be around me if we’re not fighting together. You act like I’m a nuisance when we’re just in the same room.” 
> 
> Bucky sipped on his coffee longer than Clint wanted him to, as if he was rolling the words over and over in his head. When he finally sat down the mug, a loud thump echoed throughout the room. 
> 
> Clint rubbed at his arm, feeling the cloth from the band-aids all scattered along it. 
> 
> “Because you’re my friend, Clint, and I like you a lot.” Bucky said the words so smoothly, like it was as simple as breathing. There was no catch in his tone, no sarcasm; just a genuine response.

 

Clint didn’t expect a crowd in his apartment after a mission with the Avengers, but he should really stop being surprised by now. 

Bucky Barnes was sitting on his couch, his face completely content, like this was  _his_  apartment. Kate had invited herself in, which was nothing new, as she sat on the stool. Lucky was laying near her feet, but had sat up to wag his tail at the sight of Clint walking in. 

“Uh...” Clint started, rubbing the back of his neck. “Why are you in my apartment?” 

“You told me I could come whenever I wanted.” Kate said, her voice exasperated. She was swirling herself on the bar stool, her nine-year old streak blazing. 

“I’m talking about the Winter Soldier sitting on my couch.” Clint pointed at Bucky, letting his duffel bag fall to the floor.

“I moved in.” He deadpanned, flicking through the channels. There was nothing but static, and Clint knew deep down that he needed to change it to Input 1, but he was still confused. 

There was a sharp pain in Clint’s ribs as he continued to stare at Bucky. “I don’t think I consented to that. Just because we went on a few missions doesn’t mean-”

“I moved into the building, stupid.” Bucky snorted, finally meeting Clint’s eyes. “I actually moved in next door.” 

“Oh, god. I just seen you yesterday. Who did you talk to about moving in? I _own_ the building.”

"That sweet lady down stairs told me there was an empty one apartment up on this floor," Bucky said off-handedly. "She said you wouldn't mind." 

Kate glanced at Clint, giving him a smug smile. Clint raised an eyebrow, becoming more confused by the second. “Why  _my_  building?”

“It seemed like a quiet and cozy place to settle in for a while. It’s not permanent; just until our missions are done here.” Bucky shrugged, beckoning Lucky over so he could pet him.

Clint placed a hand on his hip, thinking back to all of the times their apartment building had been attacked by thugs and Russians and Russian thugs. “A guy shoved one of my own arrows through my ears on this exact rooftop. I literally told you this.”

“Like I said: quiet and cozy.” Bucky’s mouth quirked up, his ass still not moving off of Clint’s couch. 

“Maybe it’ll be good to have him around.” Kate interjected, giving a little nod. Clint nearly snapped his neck turning to glare at her. He wanted to yell about how she had told Clint to be careful around this greasy asshole, yet here she was, defending his existence. What a traitor.  

“Listen, if you wanna live in the building, cool-” Clint walked into the living room, standing in front of the static filled tv. “-but can you go to your  _own_  apartment? I’m fuckin’ exhausted and I’m pretty sure I broke, like, six ribs. Last night's mission didn't help, either.” Clint rubbed at his wrists, still feeling the fresh, burning sensation in his tendons.

“Baby.” Kate grinned, hopping off of the chair. “I broke seven and still finished the mission.” 

Clint mouthed and mocked her under his breath, exaggerating his movements as she spoke. Bucky smiled softly, starting to stand up. 

“I hope this building stays quiet, because I need some sleep too.” Bucky muttered, heading for the door. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Probably. Unfortunately.” Clint mumbled, his words slurring from drowsiness. All he remembered was the door shutting at some point, and Lucky curled up at his side as he drifted off to sleep.

-

Clint hated mornings. Clint hated getting out of bed. To be fair, Clint didn’t really care for being alive, but that was a mental health issue to be dealt with at a later time. By a later time, he meant never. 

He stumbled down the stairs, Lucky running down in front of him. He poured the dog food from the top of the counter, the kibble falling all over the floor. He scooped the coffee grounds into the filter, watching with his mouth watering as he watched it drip into the pot. 

There was a sharp rap on the door, causing Clint to jump. Thank god he wasn’t holding his coffee pot yet. It wouldn’t be the first time one had broken in this home. 

He looked out the peep hole, recognizing the greasy mop of hair behind the door. “It’s too early for this, Barnes.”

“I can smell your coffee from next door. I need something strong.” He called, his voice still raspy from sleep. The sound made something stir in Clint that he pushed down quickly. 

He sighed, opening the door. “You’re lucky I can tolerate you enough to share my coffee."

Bucky’s chest rumbled with a low chuckle, and Clint got goosebumps. He was dressed in plaid pajama pants that were way too long for him. His black t-shirt was oversized as well, but he looked relaxed and, dare he say: normal. The metal arm was a little farfetched for normal, but it was the most normal thing Clint had probably seen in the past month. It was weird seeing Bucky like this. Just last night they were dancing together on a mission, and now he was living in Clint's apartment. It was like he had blinked and his entire world had been turned upside down. It wasn't the first time something like this had happened, though.

Clint walked him towards to kitchen, adjusting the hearing aid in his ear out of nervous habit. He wasn’t sure what it was about Barnes, but he always felt a little on edge near him. It wasn’t exactly a bad feeling, it was more like...he had to  _impress_  him. Clint was never one to impress, either. 

Clint was an absolute mess of a human. His sleeping schedule was always a wreck, along with his mental state. He tried his best to do the right thing, even though he never felt like he was doing enough. He was terrified of getting too close to people, in the fear that he would loose them, or they would die at his hands. Damn, he couldn’t even  _hear_.

Yet, Bucky was the exact opposite in his eyes. Bucky was cool and collected, and he could whip out a gun on anyone and shoot them without regret. Maybe he had some regret, but he never showed it. Clint admired that in him; the fact that he was so good at hiding his emotions. He wished he could learn from him. 

Bucky’s eye lids were heavy as he inhaled the scent of his coffee. Clint blinked, noticing he had given him his Hawkeye cup. He only gave that to people he really liked. It was too late to take it back now.

“Has Natasha paged you today?” Bucky asked, inturrupting Clint’s not-so-subtle way of watching Bucky’s lips on his cup. 

“Obviously not. We’d be out if she had, wouldn’t we?” Clint snorted, chugging his black coffee from the pot. 

“I feel like that isn’t healthy.” Bucky observed, raising an eyebrow. 

“I don’t think a metal arm is that healthy, either.” 

“Touche.”

“So, who was the girl here last night?” Bucky asked before Clint could make another snarky comment.

“Kate Bishop. Didn’t she introduce herself?” Clint asked, already making another pot. 

“Not really? She just mostly stared at me, asked me about the arm, and then shrugged it off when I told her. She ordered a pizza on your credit card, though.” 

Clint nearly choked on his pot of coffee. “She’s literally  _rich_.” 

“She got really good pizza, though.” Bucky nodded, as if remembering the taste fondly. 

Clint opened his fridge, frowning at the lack of pizza in it. “Good to see she left me some.”

Bucky hummed to himself, as if he was fighting back a smile. Clint had always noticed how his eyes had crinkled around the edges, and how when he fought a smile, he bit the edge of his lip.  _Why the fuck_  was Clint watching him that closely? How many times was he going to gush to himself about all of the things he would normally find bland on other humans?

The archer had noticed the way he sauntered when he walked, because one half of his body was heavier than the other. He offered ignored Clint’s off-hand comments and snark remarks, but could shoot one back if he really felt like it. He had suffered just as much as Clint, but he dealt with it better. He looked cool while he did it, too. It irritated the archer to no end.

“Kate’s actually Hawkeye,” Clint started, leaning his elbows on the island counter. “She took over for me for a while, and she has obviously earned the title. She’s like my bratty, nine year old sister.” 

Bucky shook his head, as if all of this made perfect sense. “She was defintely a little spit fire.” 

“She’ll fuck you up.”

The silence was comfortable, but Clint wanted him to talk more, which was a shock even to himself. “So, are you just going to keep coming into my apartment all the time or what?” 

“I can leave if you want.” The way he said it caused disappointment to spill into Clint’s stomach. 

“No-that’s not-just sit in the damn chair.” Clint pushed at Bucky’s shoulder, forcing him to stay in the stool. “It’s not really a problem, I just don’t get why you wanna be around me if we’re not fighting together. You act like I’m a nuisance when we’re just in the same room.” 

Bucky sipped on his coffee longer than Clint wanted him to, as if he was rolling the words over and over in his head. When he finally sat down the mug, a loud thump echoed throughout the room. 

Clint rubbed at his arm, feeling the cloth from the band-aids all scattered along it. 

“Because you’re my friend, Clint, and I like you a lot.” Bucky said the words so smoothly, like it was as simple as breathing. There was no catch in his tone, no sarcasm; just a genuine response. 

Clint knew he was overthinking this entire interaction, but he couldn’t help it. “Why?”

Bucky let out a chuckle, relaxing his shoulders. “What do ya mean, why? You’re a good guy, Clint. It’s...refreshing to have someone like you around.” 

Clint felt as though the floor was shifting under him. In all of his years of life, Clint was still never sure if he liked or hated when people told him he was a good person. When they told him he was a bad person, he whole-heartedly agreed. 

Kate had told him before that he was a good person, and it was what got him out of the bed in the mornings on some days. He never believed her, but she believed in him, and that was what really mattered. 

Clint could feel himself being awkward by not responding. He swallowed hard, setting his coffee pot down a little too hard. “More coffee?”

Bucky shrugged, holding out his cup. “You might want to make some more before you try to pour me any, dumbass.” 

Clint looked at the pot, seeing is dumbfounded expression looking back at him in the distorted glass. His mouth was slightly agape, and he knew he needed to shut it, but he was frozen. 

Clint never acted this way. He wasn’t even sure he had acted this way around his ex-wife when they had first met. He didn’t act this way around Penny. Not one person on earth, had he ever felt so stupid and oblivious around. He  _hated_  it. 

“Save yourself, actually.” Bucky inturrupted his self-loathing, causing his eyes to snap up. “I have some errands to run.” He stood up, going around the counter to set his cup in the sink like a fuckin’ gentleman. 

He gave Clint a little wave, and Clint forced a sheepish smile. 

Lucky whined at his feet, as if to say,  _Clint, you’re really stupid and don’t know how to talk to anybody that shows you a little bit of human decency_.

-

“You like him.”

“ _I do not_.”

“Do so. You tried so hard to play it cool last night, but I saw the way you watched him. While you were mocking me, I saw the way you lit up when you got him to smile at your dumbassery.” 

Kate and Clint were walking down the streets of New York, heading to the grocery store. Clint could feel his joints cursing at him with each step, his ribs still sore. 

Clint rolled his eyes as Kate tried to tell him exactly how he felt, but he was starting to become scared at how right she was sounding. 

“Why can’t you just admit that you have a little crush on him?” Kate offered, shoving her hands into her coat pockets. “Like, it’s normal, Clint.”

“I can’t admit to something I don’t have.” 

Kate took a deep breath, stopping the both of them. “You’re scared, aren’t you?”

Clint turned to her, looking down at her dark hair. She had that boldness in her voice that carried throughout her entire body. The boldness that scared the shit out of him, but made him love her even more. He could hide nothing from Kate, because they were one in the same. That’s why she carried the title of Hawkeye more bravely than he ever would. 

He gripped both of her shoulders, staring at her. “Kate, I am fucking  _terrified_. I am so scared of screwing this up. I mess up everything, and this friendship with Bucky is stressful enough. I’m such a screw up, especially with my shitty love life.”

Kate blinked, tilting her head. Then, a little smile graced her lips. “You are a screw up, that’s for sure. But I know you can make it work.”

“I’ve never made anything work.”

“There are things in life that are your own. You control if you wanna make them work or not.” Kate said, her eyes never leaving his. “Now, come on, I really want one of those frozen tv dinners with the little brownie in it.” 

She sauntered off ahead of him, leaving him there to blink at the sky, wondering how the hell he was going to make it work with Bucky Barnes. God dammit, he was going to  _try_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the part I had pre-written before I decided to make this into a little series, but I tried to edit it enough where it made sense with the flow of the story.  
> Feedback is greatly appreciated, since I kind of know where I want to go from here with it, but I'm a little stuck. I have an ending in mind, but I want to throw some funny times with them together as well.   
> I hope you guys are enjoying it!


	9. Kate Sets Up A Date

Bucky coming over for coffee was now a regular occurrence in Clint's apartment. He couldn't be more thrilled about it, either. 

He would have to bite back the goofy grin he wanted so desperately to give in to when he simply  _ looked _ at Bucky. Clint wasn't sure if he had felt this dumb and giddy about someone since he was married to Bobbi. Well, he always felt dumb, but giddy was never a top priority for him. 

Lucky laid his head on Bucky's thigh, giving him that sad eye while he begged for a piece of bacon off of his plate. Clint scoffed a bit, throwing Lucky two pieces from the still sizzling pan. "Goofy dog."

"I think he gets his appetite from you." Bucky snickered, petting the dog's head as he scarfed down the bacon without even chewing. 

"Hopefully that's the only thing he got from me."

Bucky seemed like he was about to protest, but settled for rolling his eyes instead. Clint didn't want to comment on how that sent a warm feeling down to his toes. Bucky was about to give him more compliments, and Clint kind of wished he had heard them, but was also grateful that he didn't. It was just the thought of Bucky saying those things that made his chest tighten a bit. Okay, maybe a lot. 

"Knock, knock!" 

"Kate, you know that saying those words isn't the same as actually doing it, right?" Clint asked, annoyance that was only implied there. 

"You better pack up and head to the grocery store, bud." Kate handed him a shopping list, scrawled in neat, loopy handwriting. "All the good candy is gonna be gone!"

Clint smacked his head, his eyes widening in realization. "Oh fuck, Halloween is tomorrow, isn't it?" 

"Got a costume?" Kate asked, already digging in Clint's fridge. 

"Nope. God, all of these secret missions has my schedule so messed up. Halloween is like, my favorite holiday."

"Apparently not if you forgot it." Bucky chimed in, seeming to find the fact that Clint was slightly losing his mind amusing. 

Kate turned around, pointing a finger at Bucky. "He's got you there, Clint." 

Clint rolled his eyes, pushing at her shoulder. "Chew with your mouth closed, heathen." 

"Sure thing,  _ dad _ ."

Clint would never admit that Kate calling him that actually left him with a fond feeling. Never, ever. 

"What do you do on Halloween?" Bucky asked, cleaning off his plate and putting it in the sink. He even rinsed it off.  _ God _ , Clint thought,  _ what a damn gentlemen _ . 

"I normally hand out candy to the kids," Clint started, trying not to sound to smug. "The kids around here love me because I give out full-sized candy bars."

"Is that...good?" 

Kate and Clint both shared a look, forgetting that he was from a different time. Certain things didn't always catch up. 

"Of course it is! No fruits, not toothbrushes, only a giant Hershey's bar!" Kate grinned, giving her mentor a high five. "The kids eat it up. Literally."

"You ready to go to the store?" Clint asked, pulling on his purple Converse. 

"I was actually thinking, maybe Bucky should go with you instead. It'll be fun, show him some of our Halloween traditions. Maybe even make him watch Rocky Horror tomorrow night." Kate suggested, the tone in her voice very far from innocent. 

Clint blinked, knowing exactly what she was doing. "Isn't that our thing?"

"I'm going to a costume party with America anyways. Show Bucky a good time." 

Bucky raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. "Sure, I don't have anything better to do. I just wait for more missions while my coffee goes cold here." 

"I'm not a waiter, ya know." 

"Oh, I know. You wouldn't be getting tipped if you were." 

"What would you tip me in?"

"My time; and even that's too generous."

Clint smiled, and he knew Kate was watching them, but he was afraid to make eye contact with her in the fear that he'd blush. 

"Have fun you two. See ya!" Kate started to go, and Clint caught her eye before she left, mouthing,  _ thank you _ .

She flipped her hair playfully, as if to say,  _ damn right _ . 

"Guess we better get going if we want good candy, right?" Bucky walked to the door, putting on his steel-toe boots. Clint wanted to ask if he had any other shoes to wear, but he was afraid that it would make Bucky insecure and he wouldn't wear them anymore. Which would be a shame since Clint thought he looked incredibly hot in them. 

"Right."

* * *

 

"Do you really have to sit in the cart like a child?" Bucky asked, raising his eyebrows in annoyance. 

"I told you," Clint adjusted himself on the hard metal underneath him. "When the weather starts to get cold, my hips hurt and lock up. I shattered my pelvis a year or so back." 

"I feel like with all of the injuries you have, your entire body should be hurting." 

"I never said it didn't." 

Bucky sighed, pushing the cart through the aisles. There were only a few strange stares and glances, since most of the regulars in New York knew how strange Clint was. 

"God, you're heavy." Bucky let out a huff of breath, using the balls of his feet to push strength onto the cart. 

"I'm about to be real heavy once I eat all this leftover Halloween candy." 

Bucky let out a short laugh, and Clint smiled back at him. Clint tried not to stare at how prominent Bucky's jaw line looked in the harsh, florescent lighting. His hair looked darker in here, too. 

"Here we go." Bucky reached the candy aisle, watching as other people who also seemed to be running late on the holidays bustled past them. "Oh, I love these." 

Bucky grabbed a bag of Pay Days as Clint grimaced, letting the bag fall into his hands as he threw it back on the shelf. "Disgusting, the kids won't want those."

"Who said they were for the kids?" 

"I don't want to watch you suffer. I mean, what kind of a friend would I be if I let you eat all those nuts?" 

"I thought everyone let their best friends eat nuts."

"Can we stop saying nuts?" Clint begged, noticing a lady staring at them out of the corner of his eye. 

Bucky pursed his lips, before he finally muttered, "Nuts."

Clint cracked up a bit, letting his back hit the back of the cart. "Give me the regular Hershey's bars."

"Not unless you let me have my Pay Days."

"No."

"Then no Hershey's."

"Bucky," Clint whined, trying to stand up in the cart. "Think of the kids."

"I'm the kid in this situation. Let me have my caramel and nuts."

Bucky held the Hershey's out of reach, letting his hands rest behind his back. Clint used his hands to steady him on the sides of the cart, bending forward unti; Bucky jerked the cart forward. Clint fell, using his feet to catch him near the front of the cart, along with Bucky's arms to steady him. 

Clint heard the bag of chocolate fall behind Bucky, and before he could look up at register his surroundings, Bucky's lips were pressed on Clint's.

Clint started remembering all of those times laying in bed recently where he wondered what it would be liked to kiss Bucky Barnes; but nothing seemed to beat the real action of it. Bucky's lips were surprisingly soft, and Clint found his fingers helplessly knotting in the other man's hair. The archer felt light, and he forgot that he was in the middle of a grocery store, surrounded by at least a hundred of other people, as Bucky's tongue slid gently across his bottom lip. 

Clint had to strangle back a thousand different noises and expressions he wanted to say, and he knew pulling back now was better than never. Bucky blinked at him, his face as dazed as his own. Clint glanced around, noticing a few people grimacing or giving them a blatant stare of what emotion exactly, he wasn't sure. Bucky's lips were parted, and slightly swollen, and Clint could have kissed him again, but he honestly didn't want to have his first one here: in the middle of the grocery store. 

Clint could have said so many different things within that moment. Like,  _ wow _ , or l _ et's go back to my place _ , or even a  _ great job _ might have been cringey, but at least it was better than-

"Oh, fuck." 

Clint's weight on the cart gave way as he tumbled forward, the cart hitting the ground with a crash. If Clint thought his pelvis hurt now, his knee caps were sure to make up for it now. 

_ God dammit, Clint _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait!  
> Tumblr: bisexualknuckles.tumblr.com  
> Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/bisexualknuckles


	10. Halloween Treats in More Ways Than One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint and Bucky discuss the possibility of their relationship.

It had all been a blur after that. Clint remembered checking out, fumbling with the bags of candy on the conveyor belt. Bucky was giggling the entire time, watching him and trying to help, but it seemed his touch only made Clint more anxious and goofy. 

Clint dropped his wallet, trying desperately to pull out his credit card, but it was stuck. The girl at the checkout was patient, and apparently shared a look with Bucky while Clint wasn’t paying attention, because she gave him a thoughtful grin. 

“Happy Halloween!” She called, giving them a little wave. 

“You two!” 

Bucky wrapped an arm around Clint’s shoulders, helping keep him upright as they walked, each with a grocery bag in their hand. 

Clint glanced up, and once their eyes met, Clint blushed, a quiet laugh escaping his lips. 

“What?” Bucky asked, unable to keep a grin off of his face as well. 

“What do you mean,  _ what _ ?” Clint held up his hands in exasperation, the grocery bag crinkling. “You kissed me! In the middle of the grocery store!”

“The opportunity just seemed right.”

“Did it seem right when that old lady threatened to call the police on us?”

“We’re Avengers, she can’t do that.”

“Well, she had her phone on and at the ready.”

“She probably didn’t even know what a phone was. You know how old people are.”

Clint snorted. “Says  _ you _ .”

“Hey, I’m hip.” Bucky squeezed at Clint’s own hip lightly, emphasizing the point. 

“I can’t believe I let you kiss me.”

“You didn't seem to complain when you had your fingers all twisted in my hair.” Bucky smirked, sneaking his arm around Clint’s waist. He hoped he never moved it. 

“So…” Clint turned to him, their pace getting slower. “I’m assuming that means...you like me?” 

Bucky laughed, a sound that made Clint want to kiss him again, but refrained himself. The public had probably seen enough for one day. “What do you think?”

“You hate me.”

“Try again.”

“You like me.”

“Bingo.”

They reached the apartment, and Bucky followed Clint into his own. Once the bags had been set on the counter, Clint placed his back against the fridge, pulling Bucky into his arms. Their mouths met once more, and Bucky’s metal hand an almost deadly grip on Clint’s thigh. Clint would be lying if he said he didn’t wish the soldier would grip it harder. 

“Wait,” Clint breathed, pulling back. “Wait a second.”

Bucky immediately stopped, tilting his head. “What’s wrong? Is it too much?”

“Oh, no. It’s, uh, “ Clint let out a breathe that sounded more like a laugh. “It’s not  _ enough _ , actually, but-”

Clint took a deep breath. “Bucky, I’m going to be completely honest; I am absolute  _ shit  _ with relationships. I’m afraid, that if-I mean, I don’t even know if you want a relationship-but like, I am so bad. Fuck, I’m terrible at it. To but it plainly.”

Bucky listened patiently, urging Clint to finish. 

“I don’t know how to communicate my feelings, I struggle with myself mentally, and I’m always doing the dumbest stuff, and most people hate that about me. I’m afraid that we’ll get into this, and you’ll regret it.” 

Bucky gently grabbed Clint’s fingers, rubbing them between his own. “Clint. I’m not the greatest with relationships, either. I think, though, that if we both try our best, that we can help one another out. I can help with your problems, you with mine. We can make this work, Clint.” 

Clint let his shoulders relax, and he looked back up at Bucky. “Okay. Okay, yeah.”

Bucky smiled, gently pressing a kiss onto the other man’s lips. “What costume are you going to wear?”

“Oh,” Clint glanced at the clock, realizing trick or treaters would be there in thirty minutes. “I don’t know.”

“Wanna be me?” 

Clint blinked as a slow grin spread on his face. “Oh, that sounds fun.”

* * *

After wrapping an entire roll of aluminum foil around his arm, and borrowing a hoodie that had the Winter Soldier’s star on the front, Clint was ready for the kids. Bucky even decided to be festive as he borrowed Clint’s arrow hoodie and threw on a bandaid over his nose. 

The kids starting pouring in, and Clint greeted each of them. Bucky stood next to him in the doorway, smiling. 

Clint felt his phone buzzing in his pocket, and he glanced down to see the goofy picture he had taken of Kate sticking her tongue out, looking back at him. 

“Hey, I gotta take this, hand out the candy for me, yeah?” Clint shoved the bowl into his hands as Bucky gave him a mock salute. 

He went into the kitchen, answering with his usual, “What’s up?”

“What’s up? I heard from Mack down at the store that you and old greaseball were making out right in the middle of the store!”

“Okay, that wasn’t  _ planned _ , alright? It just...happened.”

“Were you all really too horny to wait until you got home?”

“Kate, we haven’t-we  _ didn’t, _ sleep together. He just kissed me.”

“Haven’t slept together  _ yet _ .”

“I’ll make sure and record the whole thing when it happens, just for you.”

Kate made a gagging sound over the phone. “Please never speak to me again.”

“You’re the one asking questions about my sex life, Katie!”

“Just have fun and be safe, you horn dog! Also, don’t call me Katie!” 

With that, she hung up. Clint shook his head, going back into the living room. Bucky was smiling with the kids as they asked to touch his arm, which he didn’t seem to be refusing. Clint smiled fondly, snaking an arm around his back. “Having fun?”

“Yeah. I like interacting with the kids.” Bucky gave a little boy candy, who beamed and said thank you. 

“I think the time’s about over. Especially since we’re running out of candy.” 

“There’s another full bag on the table.” 

“That’s for us. I’m not giving the kid’s your Pay Days that you begged for. I would never punish them like that.” Clint grunted, shutting the door as the last kid left. 

Bucky rolled his eyes, following Clint into the kitchen. “So, what was this Rocky Horror picture you and Kate were talking about?”

Clint turned slowly, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve never seen-actually, that makes sense with how old you are. Wow,” Clint sat at the Island in his kitchen, over-exaggerating his movements as he slapped a hand to his temple. “I can’t believe I’m dating an old man.” 

Bucky shoved his shoulder, leaning across the counter. “Shut the fuck up and tell me about this movie.”

“It’s honestly better if I just show you, honestly.”

-

“Why is he  _ wearing _ that?” Bucky asked, playing with Clint’s shirt on his shoulder as he held him close. 

“Because he’s a sweet transvestite, what do you want from me?”

Bucky chuckled, keeping his eyes on the screen. “You know who would look good in that?”

“Hm?”

“You?”

Clint nearly spit out his soda, laughing a bit. “ _ Excuse me _ ?” 

“Come on, picture it.” Bucky pushed Clint into the couch, pinning him there. “Fishnets, a little corset-it’d be amazing.”

“I’m going to have to disagree.” Clint giggled, rolling his eyes. He was trying to focus on what Bucky was saying to him rather than the pressure he was putting on his pelvis. “I don’t have the body for it.”

“Sure you do. You have secret abs.” Bucky poked his stomach, causing him to flinch. 

Clint caught his hands, shaking his head. “I don’t even own those, so get your mind out of the gutter. Besides, I wouldn’t think an old man like you would have kinks.”

“You couldn’t even begin to imagine my kinks.”

“Hm. Try me.” Clint teased, egging him on as he grabbed the strings of Bucky’s hoodie. 

Bucky grinded his hips down, causing Clint to gasp. “Are you okay with this?” 

Clint nodded feverishly, pulling Bucky down into a sloppy kiss. 

“Do you need to take these off?” Bucky stroked the back of Clint’s ear, motioning to his hearing aid. Clint gave a reluctant giggle, turning his head away. 

“Sorry, did that tickle?” Bucky smirked, doing it to the other ear. 

“Stop, I hate when people do that.” Clint laughed, trying to pry Bucky’s hands away from his sensitive ears. 

Bucky chuckled, pressing light kisses behind his ears, which turned Clint’s raspy breaths into high-pitched giggles. “Bucky, I swear!” 

“What, I’m trying to turn you on.” 

“Noho! You’re not!” Clint squirmed, trying to ignore the fact that he  _ was _ getting turned on, because out of everything that was happening,  _ tickling _ should not be getting him off, but here they were. 

Bucky’s lips moved down to his neck, and now Clint couldn’t breathe. He tried pushing himself into Bucky more, but it seemed the the space between them couldn’t be closed anymore. 

“Would you rather do this in your bed?” Bucky asked, his breath tickling Clint’s ear.

“N-no,” Clint tongue was running down Bucky’s collarbone. “Right here is good.”

Bucky chuckled, rolling his eyes a bit. “So impatient, Barton.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're all ready for some smut next chapter!


	11. Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: NSFW chapter ahead! If that's not your cup of tea, you can skip it!

Clint had had sex with a lot of people throughout his lifetime. Some with girls, some with guys. Mostly women, but Clint could recall that one time Scott and him hooked up and never talked about it ever again. He also remembered vaguely sleeping with Natasha all those years ago, but he still wondered if it was all a fever dream. That was the first time he had ever been peg- nevermind. Fever dream. Hopefully. 

He thought he knew what to do; thought he knew the moves and the feelings were always the same...but Bucky was different. Clint wanted every inch of the soldier, and he was afraid that he wouldn't appreciate their time together. He had a strange, sick feeling that he better enjoy this now. He also had a weird thought about Natasha watching him, judging him for the fact that he was about to shove her ex-boyfriend's dick in his mouth. She said she didn't mind, but Clint constantly worried about what she was thinking. She was probably hanging outside the window for all he knew. 

"Oh, _fuck,_ " Those words sent the image of Black Widow stalking him walking, and his hazy eyes settled back on Bucky. His back was pressed against the arm of the couch, sweat beads trickling down the side of his face. His face was flushed, his mouth slightly agape in a way that Clint wanted to reach up and kiss him again. 

Instead, Clint ran his tongue lightly, almost teasingly along the underside of Bucky's dick, causing his eyes to flutter. 

"Who knew your mouth was good for something other than snarking off?" Bucky chuckled, carressing Clint's short-cropped hair. 

Without warning, Clint took Bucky's entire length in his mouth, causing the soldier's body to shake and shiver under him. "C...careful, I'll come." 

Clint gave him a devilish grin, pulling Bucky out of his mouth with an obnoxious _pop!_ Clint couldn't take his eyes off Bucky everytime he kissed, licked, or touched him anywhere. He had never seen Bucky loose composure like he was now; and it made Clint giddy inside knowing that all of these moans, all of these bucks and shivers were because of _him_. 

He figured Bucky would be kind of a quiet guy during sex, but he was wrong. God, he was so glad he was wrong for once. Bucky moaned and whimpered at every little touch, even growling as he took a hold of Clint in his arms, letting his metal hand trace patterns along his spine. Clint shivered, straddling him with as much give as he could muster. The circus made him incredibly flexiable. 

Bucky pressed light kisses along Clint's collarbone, down to his chest, then back up again. Clint's dick sat against his thigh, red and throbbing, begging to be touched by Bucky's hand. 

"Please, Buck," Clint started moving slowly, grinding against Bucky's thigh as if that would relieve any of the pressure building in his groin. " _Touch me_."

"Touch you where?" Bucky teased, his teeth gleaming in the darkened room. "Here?"

Bucky gently ran his fingers up the shell of Clint's ear, nudging at the hearing aid there. Clint let an involuntary giggle slip out, which caused his face to heat up. "Don't" He whined, riding Bucky's leg harder, as if making a point. 

"Hm, how about here?" A quick squeeze of his sides, which only made Clint laugh more. "Or here?" There was a poke to his inner thighs, purposelly missing Clint's dick by merely an inch. 

Something between a light giggle and a moan intertwined, just as their fingers were, before Clint could stop it. Bucky bit his lip at the noise, pulling Clint close to he could bury his face into the archer's neck. "Fuck, you're so cute." Clint closed his eyes as he felt the calloused hands reach at his member, _finally_ , and started to pump. 

"Metal..." Clint choked out, trying to reach down between them to do it himself. "Want the metal hand." 

Bucky raised an eyebrow, but then grinned after a moment. "Kinky, huh?"

"Told you that earlier." 

The metal hand was cool, and rougher than Bucky's actual fingers. Clint _adored_ it. His breathing picked up in shallow gasps, his hips rocking forward to try and match Bucky's rythm. Clint could feel Bucky's other fingers creeping along behind his back, until they were playing with the edge of his hole. 

Clint gasped, his eyes widening for a moment. Bucky pushed Clint's body back down, mumbling something into his neck. 

"Even with my hearing aid- _oh, god_ , Bucky-I still couldn't hear what you just said." Clint gritted his teeth, trying his damnest not to come just yet. 

"Do you have lube?" Bucky's voice sounded so small, and he knew Bucky was just as on the edge as him. 

"Upstairs, in my dresser drawer." Clint grumbled, realizing how far away that was. "We could just use spit."

Bucky's hand slowed to a stop, and he gave Clint an incredulous look, his eyebrows furrowing. "I'm not an animal, Clint. That's not comfortable for anyone, no matter how horny they are." 

Clint shrugged, reluctantly coming to a stop on the grinding. "Then you go get it."

"No," Bucky stood, keeping Clint in his arms. "We'll go together."

"Bucky!" Clint shouted, then lowered his voice as he whispered, "My curtains are open!"

"Everyone knows we're fucking, Clint. Damn, I'd be surprised if the other tenants couldn't hear you down on the first floor." Bucky chuckled, carrying Clint up the wooden stairs as if it were nothing. 

Clint blushed, burying his face into Bucky's chest. "It makes it worse because I'm their landlord."

"Just knock off some on rent, then they'll be good." 

Clint snorted, his smile bright as Bucky playfully threw him onto the bed, opening the drawer. "Do the tenants know you use their money to buy lube for your nightly escapades?"

Clint turned his head, his body shaking with laughter. "With as much as you talk about my tenants, you'd think you would want to fuck _them_." 

"I think you're all that I can handle, Barton." Bucky gave him a wink, and Clint would be lying if he said it didn't make his heart soar. 

"Fuck." Bucky mumbled, dropping the lube between Clint's legs. 

"Here, I'll- _ouch_!" They knocked heads as they both reached for the bottle, both of them rubbing their heads from where they bumped. Clint looked up, catching Bucky's eye, as they both burst into laughter. 

"We're really fucking dumb, aren't we, Clint?" Bucky shook his head, his chest rumbling. 

"Why be fucking dumb when you could be fucking me." 

Bucky groaned, rolling his eyes. "Should be fucking your pretty little mouth again so you'd shut the fuck up." 

"I'm always up for a challenge."

Bucky grinned, slipping two coated fingers into Clint's ass, working him from inside and out. Clint's breathing hitched as he hit a sensitive spot, nearly whimpering from only Bucky's metal fingers. Clint had a slight fear that the ridges in Bucky's metal design would catch on his skin, but they moved smoothly, without a hesitation. 

Bucky slowly pulled out his fingers, lining himself up with Clint's hole. "Ready? If you need me to stop at any point, let me know." 

Clint nodded, his hands gripping the sheets beside him to steady himself. Bucky easily slid in, and Clint threw his head back with a moan. Everything was warm, and wet everywhere, from sweat and pre-cum, and Clint was nearly beside himself as white spots were already dancing at the corners of his vision. 

"Oh, _god_ ," Bucky panted, his hips jerking forward in a way Clint could only describe with a loud whimper. "This is so much better than I- _ah_ -expected."

Bucky let his hands rest on Clint's chest, keeping him still so Bucky could ram into him, both of them breathing heavy. 

Clint's body felt thick, along with the air in the room. It was too hard to keep his mouth shut, and the curses and provocative moans kept slipping out before he could stop them. Bucky hair had fallen out of his bun a long time ago, so strands of his hair kept falling in his eyes. His hands were too preoccupied keeping Clint still that he didn't seem to mind all that much. Bucky's pupil were blown, and his lids were heavy as he watched Clint respond to his thrusts. 

Clint's cock was aching, but he was afraid that even the slightest touch from his hand would end it all. The ecstasy would be over, and Clint would only have a memory to masturbate too when Bucky wasn't around. Clint was trying so hard to remember every touch, every butterfly kiss pressed onto his skin with Bucky's lips; even the goofy, playful touches to Clint's ticklish ears and hips, Clint was grasping at them, trying to keep them in his hold forever. 

The soon-to-be memories were eating away at Clint's body, all of the past foreplay catching up and making it so hard for Clint not to touch himself. He couldn't get enough of Bucky; his strong stature, the way he had scooped up Clint in his arms as if it had been _nothing_. Even though Bucky's thrusts were rough and unmatchable at this speed, the way his hands intertwined with Clint's now showed nothing but kindness. 

The way he had backed off if Clint needed a moment without any hesitation, making sure the lube was there and ready: Bucky did care about Clint. While his thoughts raced, Bucky pushed himself forward, catching Clint in a needy kiss. 

His tongue pushed through, desperately tasting Clint, drinking him in all in. Clint would give him anything he wanted in that moment. If Bucky wanted his bank account information, now was probably the time to ask. 

Bucky started mumbling into his mouth, his thrusts into Clint desperate and wanting. "Gonna...gonna come, baby. Here," Bucky reached down, taking Clint's dick into his hand, and that was all it took. 

The slightest pressure caused Clint to come, wetness coating his stomach. Bucky gave one final thrust, a loud moan and shudder consuming his body as he came inside Clint. 

Clint blinked, watching as Bucky slumped over him, his chest heaving. 

"Can..." Clint breathed, rubbing his thumb over Bucky's cheek. "Can we finish the movie?"

Bucky stopped, looking up at Clint. His dumbfounded expression turned into a slow grin, then into a loud laugh. "With sex that good, you can have anything you want, babe." 

Clint grinned, knowing that he probably shouldn't bring up the bank account thing. It had been a heat of the moment thing, he swore. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first time writing smut, so here we are. Leave me your feedback as we edge closer to the end of the story!   
> Tumblr: bisexualknuckles.tumblr.com  
> Ko-fi: bisexualknuckles


	12. Wait For Me, Please

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Try not to screw this one up, Clint Barton."

Clint felt like he was stumbling through life the next few weeks.

He wasn’t missing anything. His attention was just set on Bucky. 

He recalled laying in bed the other night, both exhausted from the previous actions, whispering to one another about their pasts; moments that shaped their lives into what it was now. 

“You kind of clammed up before when I brought up your dad,” Bucky noted, hesitation lingering in his voice. “Did he hurt you?”

Clint rolled the thought in his mind, staring at the ceiling. It was better than looking directly at Bucky. Clint hated eye contact. 

“Yeah. Me ‘an my brother. My mom, too.” Clint mumbled, hoping Bucky could still hear him. “My parents were killed in a car accident when I was younger. Barney and me ran off to the circus; not really a choice, but it’s the only home we had. You wanna know something fucked up?” 

Clint turned to Bucky, noticing how patient he was; as if he was silently saying  _ go on _ . 

“I was glad my parents died.” 

There was a silence in the room, but Bucky didn’t seem shocked. He didn’t seem disgusted or appalled; he just nodded. 

“I feel like that’s understandable. Since he hurt you.” Bucky’s voice was steady. “We all have thoughts that most people would consider bad or wrong, but it’s different because it hurts. It hurts when a parent doesn’t step up like they should. ‘Cause they’re supposed to. It’s their job.” 

Clint let those words sink in, nodding eventually. “I’ve only told my brother, Kate and you. Tasha only knows because of my file. Not the thing about being glad my parents are gone, though. What was it like being with her?” 

Clint wasn’t using this question as ammo, it was just out genuine curiosity. A helpless smile grew on Bucky’s face. 

“I’d be lying if I didn’t say she was great. You know, for as tough as she looks, she has a big heart. Just in different situations.” 

“I know.” 

“I’d still do anything for her.”

“I can relate to that.” 

Bucky smiled, turning slightly so he could see Clint’s face better. “I’m not going to tell you who was better in bed, if that’s what you’re getting at.” 

Clint grinned at the remark. “Nah, I was just curious. I mean, we already know it’s me, but hey, things like that don’t matter.” 

Bucky chuckled, tracing the scar that ran through Clint’s blond brow. “How’d you get this?”

“Ya know, most of the time I don’t remember how I got my scars, but this one was with Kate. I was showing her a trick move with an arrow, and she came a little too close for comfort.” 

Bucky laughed, but his expression softened. “You really have a soft spot for that little girl, huh?”

Clint’s face darkened a bit, his tone serious. “I would do anything for that girl. She’s my best friend.” 

Bucky smiled, lightly pressing his lips to the archer’s. “You have a big heart, Barton. I like that in a man.”

* * *

 

“So, how was the sex?” Kate teased, shoving a mouth full of popcorn between her lips. 

“You’re gross.” Clint flicked a piece of popcorn at her head, having it hit her right between the eyes. 

Bucky was out on a special mission, with just Natasha and him. Kate had joked that he was going to try and win back Natasha, but Clint simply said, “I’d sleep with Black Widow if I had the chance, too.” 

Kate begrudgingly agreed. 

“Hey, we’re partners; I’d tell you!” 

“ _ Never _ in a thousand years tell me you’ve slept with anyone. I do  _ not _ want to think about that. You’re the baby.” 

Kate crossed her arms, obviously offended. “I am  _ not _ a baby.”

“Your whiny tone of voice speaks volumes, Katie-Kate.” 

Kate rolled her eyes, turning up the volume to drown out anything else. Clint gave her a half-hearted smile, watching the rest of Rocky Horror that now sent chills up his spine.

“I’m happy for you, Clint,” Kate smiled at him, squeezing his hand in reassurance. “I hope you don’t screw this one up.”

Clint snorted, but squeezed back. “I’m sure I’ll do something to screw it up.” 

“Maybe not this time.” 

* * *

Bucky didn’t come back from the mission that night. Clint tried not to worry, since this was normal. He flexed his fingers over the wall phone, holding himself back from speed dialing Natasha’s number. Things would work out. They had to.

* * *

 

The day after Bucky and him officially put a title on their relationship, he had called Natasha. He blushed, bragged, and gushed about everything. Natasha’s happiness was forced, and Clint immediately knew.

“What’s wrong?”

Silence.

“Nat?”

“I’m worried about this, Clint.”

White hot anger flashed behind Clint’s eyes. He tried to keep his voice steady as he muttered, “What, are you just jealous because-”

“Don’t even finish that sentence, Clint.”

He bit his tongue, the anger diminishing almost as quickly as it had lit up. “Sorry.”

“Bucky has never been permanent. He is still wanted by S.H.I.E.L.D. He is wanted by a lot of agencies. It’ his job. He leaves. Bucky has never known permanent.” 

“This time is different. I’m still with S.H.I.E.L.D. I can make this work, Nat. A few months without seeing him is nothing.” Clint tried to keep his voice steady, but there was a quiver to it. One that he despised of himself. 

“Is Nick relocating him? Be honest.”

“Not that I know of now, but who knows. Fighting is all Bucky has ever done. It’s what he’s best at.” Natasha’s voice was hushed; hurt. Hurt for another person. 

“You’re wrong.”

“Those are Nick’s words, not mine. Just be prepared for the worst, Clint.”

Clint licked his lips as he growled, “I always am.” and slammed the phone was hard the speaker busted.

* * *

 

Clint didn’t like that look on Bucky’s face. He didn’t like how far away Bucky was sitting from him. His eyes were a little hollow, and their color was diminished. Not bright, like when he laughed. 

“I have to leave.”

Clint stayed silent for a moment. His heart thudded rapidly against his chest. Lucky was snoring under his feet. 

“For how long?”

“Could be a few months. Few years. Forever.” 

Clint suddenly felt nauseous. “So, what does that mean for _ us _ ?”

The title had only been official for a couple months. That wasn’t enough time for anything. Only the buildup; the climax wasn’t here yet. 

“Be happy, Clint. Do what you want, see who you want; take care of your dog and Kate. Take care of Nat, and Scott and all of them. I just want you to be happy.” 

“I’m not happy if you’re not here.” Clint’s voice was strained, his eyes burning. 

“You were happy before.”

“Tha doesn’t matter, now. What am I supposed to do?” Clint was getting angry, and it was getting harder and harder to bite his tongue. “Natasha told me this would happen. If you knew this wouldn’t be permanent, then why did you try to set it in stone?”

Bucky looked up at him. His expression was so dull and empty. Almost like the words Clint threw at him only bounced off. He didn’t want to cry. He always thought of his dad when he cried. 

The only time he had given in was when Katie had gotten shot. When he thought she was dead. That was all he was going to allow himself. Now, things were hurting again and Clint didn’t know how to stop it. 

“I considered quitting S.H.I.E.L.D. I considered living permanently in this building with you. I considered a lot of things but I have to help people. For almost all of my life I was working under someone else’s control. I killed and I hurt people for them. I have to make up for it. I have to try and fix the things they made me do. I have to stop HYDRA.” 

“Why can’t you stay here with me and do it? We can do it together; that’s my job too.”

The smile Bucky gave him was wistful. “You’re job might be to catch HYDRA agents on some days, but you’re real job is protecting these people. You have to be here for Kate.” 

Clint couldn’t find it in him to argue. He’d never leave Kate. What they had built here was far too important for him to abandon. Even if he loved Bucky a little too much. Even if it hurt watching him go. He had his place; and Bucky had his. 

Clint sniffed, straightening his shoulders. “I expect a full report when you get back.”

Bucky hesitated, but then broke into a grin. He pulled Clint forward, catching his lips softly. 

Clint knew Bucky wanted to say,  _ if I ever see you again _ , but he was glad he didn’t. It helped, even it was only a little.

* * *

 

Clint didn’t stay around to watch Bucky pack. He went out to the store, his eyes glazed over as he stared at the frozen peas laying in the bottom of his cart. He didn’t want to be in that building anymore; he wanted to watch it burn for a while. 

Clint couldn’t stop thinking about him. How swollen Bucky’s lips got after they kissed, the soft kisses he left between Clint’s thighs and down his spine; this was harder that he thought. He’d miss how Bucky’s teeth would gleam in the dark of his room when they stayed up to whisper over their past or if they should order food from that weird pizza shop on the corner of town. Clint would miss trying to teach Bucky to shoot an arrow off the building’s rooftop. Watching him fail miserably as they both laughed, Clint bragging and showing off the entire time. He always liked an excuse to that. 

Clint felt the pager in his sweatpants go off, seeing the Avengers flash. He left his cart in the middle of the store, sprinting down the street. 

* * *

He was face-to-face with Bucky, in the dark meeting room at their base. Bucky was dressed in his ball cap, his t-shirt tucked under his navy jacket. 

Clint was afraid to touch him. It would only remind him that he would probably never feel him again. This was still hard. 

“I ship off in an hour. I have to catch my flight.” 

“Kind of risky going through a metal detector with that arm, don’t ya think?”

Bucky shook his head, smiling. “Same old Barton. Will you at least maybe give me a hug?”

Clint wanted to hold back. Wanted to let him wait it out, as if he were thinking about it. Contemplating whether or not he was worthy to touch him. 

Before he could catch up with his thoughts, his feet had already betrayed him. He was surrounded by Bucky’s embrace, smelling the familiar scent of fire smoke and oil. Bucky was kiss him hard, keeping him wrapped up there so Clint couldn’t escape, and he really wished he couldn’t. 

The kisses were hard, like it would be their last one. Clint tried not to think of it like that. He tried to think maybe Bucky was just horny for him, but the thought wasn’t as uplifting as he thought it would be. 

After a moment, Bucky pulled away, adjusting them. “Love you.”

“Don’t say something like that if you’re just going to leave.” 

Bucky sighed, but didn’t bring it up again. “I’ll miss you, Clint. Maybe I’ll be back sometime. Save that apartment for me?”

Clint blinked, pulling back and shoving his hands into his pockets. “Probably not. Somebody probably needs it more than you.” 

Bucky snorted, a reluctant smile gracing his lips. “See ya around.”

"Wait for me, please."

Bucky gave him a subtle wink.

Clint didn’t remember how he got home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr: bisexualknuckles.tumblr.com  
> Ko-Fi: bisexualknuckles


	13. Chapter 13: We're Back to Square One (Regretfully)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The days are turning into months, and Clint isn't sure how he isn't dead yet.

The first few days went by slow. 

Clint found himself always glancing at the phone, waiting, _pleading_ for it to start ringing. He'd sit on the couch, glance at the ceiling, then glance back at the phone. Nothing.

If the phone did ring, Clint would nearly break his ankles trying to get down the stairs, his palms hitting the wall to steady himself. It was always Kate. Natasha. Bobbi even called to check on him. Never Bucky. 

It was getting harder to hide the disappointment in his voice when it wasn't Bucky Barnes. So, they both stopped calling. They would directly come over, or Natasha would page him with the Avengers only pager. Natasha never followed her own rules. 

Clint couldn't stop tapping his fingers, running them through Lucky's fur, trying to distract himself from Bucky. 

_"I'll call you as soon as I get the chance,"_

_"I'll be back."_

It was getting harder and harder to believe him. Clint was afraid he was going to forget what color his eyes were, or the smile lines around his eyes and mouth. What if he forgot the feeling of his metal arm on the heat of his skin? What if Bucky was forgetting _him_?

The days turned into months. 

Clint, in a fit of rage, unplugged the phone. He wanted to rip the cord, throw it out the window. Wanted to give it Lucky as a chew toy. Something deep inside him tugged at his heart strings to keep it, though. 

Kate made it easier. She would come over, never bring up the subject of Bucky. Never gave him a disappointed look like he figured she would. She'd simply smile, laugh, and make herself at home. Normal things. Things Clint couldn't let go of, especially not now. 

Sitting on the couch together, a pizza box on the table, Kate looked like she wanted to say something. So she did. 

"Do you wanna talk about it? It's been-"

"Please. Don't say how long it's been." 

Kate raised an eyebrow, waiting. 

"I'm such a fuck up Kate." Clint sighed, tossing a couple pepperonis to Lucky. "I tried to make it work, but look, it didn't. What a surprise from dumb old Clint." 

Kate rested a hand on his shoulder, gripping it tightly as if to say, _"Don't you dare look away from me, Clinton Barton."_

"Do you fuck up a lot of things? Sure. Do you do it on purpose?" Kate shook her head. "Never. Sometimes, things happen. You can't stop them, and you just to make them work. This whole disaster with Bucky was nobody's fault. It's hard to be a hero. He had unfinished business and that's something I know all about it, so you can't blame anyone." 

Clint said nothing, he only listened. 

"It's gonna be hard, but you're gonna make it. You always do." 

Clint found the energy to nod, then found himself wrapping Kate in his arms. He just wanted a hug from someone who didn't hate him. Kate was the perfect choice, because she only hated him on Tuesdays. 

She returned it, without saying a word. Dog Cops was on, so they decided to drown themselves in that than anymore discussion of Bucky Barnes. 

Clint plugged the phone back in after she left.

* * *

It had been a year. The phone hadn't rang once. The missions were starting to blur together. 

It was the same thing. It was just like it had been before Bucky: a mission with Natasha and Scott, then lunch afterwards. It was Natasha picking at her salad, and Scott blabbing away about his daughter. Clint didn't mind, though. It was nice to see him happy about something. 

It was Kate coming over every Friday night or every chance she got. It was them shooting on the roof together, with Lucky at their feet. It was pizza and coffee, and all of those things in Clint's life that had never changed. It was everything before Bucky and after him. 

Clint wasn't sure how to explain that it made him both grateful and full of heartache. Bucky had fit in perfectly. He had been stitched into this little, mish-mash family and Clint didn't want the stitches to fall away. 

Clint almost asked Steve about Bucky, but was afraid. He got the feeling that was dangerous territory, and he didn't really want to share Bucky with anyone else. It was selfish, but the memories were all he had left. 

Clint begrudgingly passed out candy on Halloween, due to Kate's request. Halloween was only a reminder. He threw his copy of Rocky Horror Picture Show in the dumpster. He fished it out the day after Halloween because he suddenly wanted to watch it. It hurt worse than he thought it would. 

* * *

Another year passes by and Clint has seemingly got his life back on track. Bucky is only a thought that crosses his mind once a day, even though it's always a vivid memory. Clint was afraid he would have forgotten him by now, but those eyes were hard to forget. 

Clint found himself leaning against the doorway of the meeting room, watching Natasha carefully. "So...any word?"

Natasha's face didn't fall. She didn't even look at him. "No. The connections to Russia are still strong, though. He hadn't been the Red Room in a month."

"Is that bad?"

"Not really. Bucky comes and goes," Clint cringed at hearing the name out loud. "He goes off the grid often. Especially when it comes to HYDRA. Just...don't get your hopes up, Clint." 

"Never have." 

* * *

The phone is ringing one morning, at exactly four a.m. Clint is brushing his teeth, only awake because of brief personal business about Kate's dad. He figured it's Kate, going to tell him about the meetup. 

His mouth is foaming with toothpaste as he hears Kate's voice on the other end of the line. "Parkways Palace a good spot?"

Clint is mumbling, unsure if he's speaking real words. "You're lucky I love you, Katie-Kate. I also hate your dad, so there's a lot of feelings here."

Kate snorts, telling him to make it quick as she hangs up. He's half way back up the stairs when the phone rings again.

He groans, mumbling, "I hate you." 

He picks it up, not allowing for the other person to speak. "Kate, is it not enough that I'm up at four in the god damn morning for you? Did you forget something?"

The line was silent, but Clint knew someone was there. The breathing was a little labored. 

"Hello?" Clint was getting annoyed. He hadn't thought about telemarketers. 

The voice that spoke felt like a knife was being drug down his back. It reopened the wounds that had finally closed, and Clint could feel his heart climbing up into his throat as it said, "Clint?"

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you have enjoyed this little fic! It was so much fun to write and I enjoyed all of the feedback I've received!   
> You guys are the reason I keep posting here, love you all!   
> Tumblr: bisexualknuckles.  
> Ko-fi: /bisexualknuckles


End file.
